Crush II: Ostinato
by MissMelysse
Summary: The second novel-length part of the CRUSHverse. (Follows HELLO FROM EARTH...) Data/Zoe continues. What was once only friendship morphs into SO much more. NOTE: Strong T-rating overall, but some chapters are M-rated, and are marked accordingly.
1. Anvil

_**Disclaimer:**_**Star Trek: The Next Generation**_**, the **_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_**, and all the canon characters and events belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine.**_

* * *

**Anvil**

**Stardate 44669.52 **

**(Saturday, 2 September 2367, 09:00 hours local time)**

**Starbase Twelve**

Airports. Spaceports. Starbase transit lounges. It didn't matter what they were called, there were certain universal truths that applied to all of them, and when you were moving through one at the end of what was, for most of the worlds in the same sector as Earth, the last few days before the beginning of a new school year, there were a lot of families with kids returning from vacations, and a lot of students traveling on their own.

With my cello worn back-pack style (for easier transport) and my single rolling suitcase (anti-grav wasn't allowed in customs) I could have been any of the latter. Even my clothes: a t-shirt and jeans, vintage combat boots, and a sweatshirt tied around my waist, were almost a kind of uniform, the sorts of things worn by young humanoids for centuries. The colors might change, and the languages represented on the t-shirt slogans might be nearly innumerable, but the basic form was classic.

The difference was that instead of heading back to Earth or Centaurus, Vulcan or Corsica, or even Risa (home of the champion inter-collegiate beach volleyball team since 2359) _I_ was headed back to school on a starship, and not just _any_ starship, either: Starfleet's flagship, the _U.S.S. Enterprise_.

I was also traveling alone, as my mother and my once and future literature teacher were spending an extra week on Earth, after a week of something that was closer to a family vacation than anything I'd previously experienced. Not that I minded. My mother was greatly deserving of some personal time, and Ed, the teacher in question, was a great guy. I wasn't staking actual money on it, or anything, but I was betting there would be a proposal before the week was out.

"Next!" The voice of the transit officer in front of me roused me from my musing about Mom and Ed, and I stepped forward and presented my ID chit. "Name and destination?"

"Zoe Harris. I'm meeting the _Enterprise_," I said.

The blue-skinned, white-haired officer looked me over, his antennae bobbing slightly with the movements of his head. "You're a bit young to be Starfleet," he said.

I grinned. "A bit," I agreed. "My mother's in the science division there. Lt. Commander Emily Harris." She and my father had been divorced for almost a year, now, but she'd kept his last name. She was used to it, she'd explained. And changing records was a hassle.

"I have your records here," I was told. "Harris, Zoe. Bound for _Enterprise, _as you said. Here's your temporary comm-badge; it will give you access to station facilities and help them track you if you don't want to stay on the Starfleet deck. The ship's not due to arrive for several hours, but you're flagged as VIP status so I'm going to assign a room to you. Feel free to leave your belongings there while you roam around the station. There will be an announcement when _Enterprise_ docks, but a transit officer will find you, even so. You're sixteen, which means we don't need to assign a companion unless you ask for one."

"I'm good," I said, feeling like a seasoned traveler. In a sense, I was, having been on tour with my father for a good chunk of my childhood, but those had always been commercial transports, and some minion had handled all the paperwork. "But thank you."

There was a scuffle a couple of aisles over, where people were standing with picket signs – digital displays on meter-long handles – reading _Keep Earth Human _and _Humans First_. They were chanting, as well, and waving the signs at anyone who wasn't obviously human.

"Charming people," I snarked. "They know they're at arrivals, right?"

Eyes and antenna turned in the direction of the noise, and then refocused on me. "You'd think they'd have figured it out," he said. "They're here almost every week. Mostly they're just annoying, but we've gotten a couple of bomb threats." His hand rose to clamp over his mouth in embarrassment. "Oops, sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Listen, I'm sure you'll be fine." He scanned my retina and fingerprints and pressed a few keys on his console. "Welcome to Starbase Twelve, Ms. Harris. Enjoy your stay."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44669.78 **

**(Saturday, 2 September 2367, 11:17 hours, local time) **

The best thing about Starbase Twelve, I decided, was that there was a branch of my favorite café there. I was sitting at a window table at Red Sands, watching the people on the Starbase promenade and nursing my second café mocha of the morning, when a familiar voice interrupted me.

"Ah, Zoe. I suspected I would find you here."

I looked up into the yellow eyes and pale gold face I'd missed seeing all summer. "Where there's coffee…" I began, teasingly, but I trailed off, when I noticed the smirk on this man's face. "Oh," I said, trying to sound unperturbed, "Lore."

The facial tic he still hadn't completely eradicated confirmed my assessment. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, dropping into the other chair at my table before I could even answer. "Actually, it doesn't matter if you mind or not. So, little girl, happy to see me?"

"Thrilled," I snarked at him. "Ecstatic, even." We both knew I was only being sarcastic to cover my fear. "Shouldn't you be stalking women your own age instead of teenagers?"

He managed a snort. "If you allow for all the years I spent packed away in pieces, I'm closer to your age than you might think," he said. "Certainly closer than my dear brother. He's, what, fifteen years your senior?"

"Thirteen," I corrected, though I was pretty sure he'd known the real number all along. "Not that it matters, since we don't have a relationship beyond friendship."

"But you want one."

"This again?" I asked. "Really? Brain like yours, and you have nothing better to do than worry about who may or may not be crushing on your brother? Don't you have puppies to kick or worlds to conquer or something?"

"Or something," he allowed, but his smirk had only gotten bigger. "Look, little girl, whatever you claim your relationship with my brother is, you _matter_ to him, and therefore you are extremely useful to me. Finish your drink, and let's take a little walk."

"You send me 'anonymous' notes, follow me around San Francisco, show up at my concerts, and now you want me to go on a walk with you? Are you sure your programming isn't glitching?"

"Oh, you are an amusing child," he said, the delighted smile he wore only making him seem creepier. He leaned across the table, so that anyone watching us would think we were having a romantic _tête-à-tête_ instead of… whatever this was. "I need you to carry a message to my brother."

"Do I _look_ like a carrier pigeon?" I asked, using irritation to mask the terror running through me. Could he see me shaking?

"Carrier pigeon?" his eyes flickered back and forth in much the same fashion I was used to seeing in Data. I didn't point out that his brother's searches never took as long. "Oh, very good," he commented. "No, you look like someone who wouldn't want to be responsible for the destruction of a Starbase and the death of the good people who inhabit it."

"You're right," I agreed. "Because I'm _not._ I'm just a student heading back to school. And you know if Starfleet finds you here…"

"The _Enterprise_ is still hours away, and even if you signaled right now it would take transit officers seventeen minutes to get here…just long enough for you and I to have a little one-on-one time." He licked his lips suggestively. "You know you want to."

I stared directly into his yellow eyes. Nine months ago, I'd mistaken him – Lore – for his brother, my friend and tutor, Lt. Commander Data, and followed him into an unsavory section of a different Starbase. He'd ended our first encounter by kissing me and then knocking me out, leaving me with a new awareness of his brother in the process.

I still dreamed about that kiss from time to time.

Half the time, it was Data kissing me.

The other half the time, those dreams were nightmares.

"I know I _don't_," I said. "I also know that I wouldn't be responsible for whatever sick and twisted plan you've got up your stolen sleeve." I looked him up and down as I said it, taking in the fact that the uniform he was wearing was now out of date – the collar was all wrong, and the design of the sleeves had changed.

"Big talk from a little girl. Is false bravado your specialty?" He reached across the table and captured my hand, holding it with just enough pressure to restrain, while still making it very clear that if I made a wrong move he could easily crush every bone. His other hand reached for my chin, cupping it delicately, and when he spoke, his voice was a dark whisper in my ear. "Don't bother screaming, Zoe. If anyone sees us, they'll think we're engaged in something far more…intimate…then a mere conversation."

"I won't," I said. I actually had no intention of screaming, partly because I knew it wouldn't help, and partly because, stupid or not, I was curious about what he had planned.

"You have a room assigned. Let's take a little stroll to it."

"Okay." I knew it was a stupid move, but I also knew he wasn't going to rape me. It wasn't his style. He had something else in mind.

He kept hold of my hand as we stood up, though he let go long enough to wrap his arm firmly around my waist, instead, and we left the café, taking the lift to the hotel lobby, and then taking the hotel's lift to my room. When the door had closed behind us he pushed me onto the bed, and straddled me, bending his head close to mine.

His breath was hot and reeked of something like motor oil and battery acid, two things I was familiar with thanks to a life that involved boys with speedboats and souped-up fliers. "Seriously, have you been chugging flitter fuel?" I asked him, trying to roll out from under him, and failing.

"Silicone-based lubricant and generic nutritional supplement, if you must know. Plus fish oil. Helps the memory." He laughed, obviously meaning the last part as a joke. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing mine as he spoke. "Want a taste?"

I shuddered. "Lips that drink Sili-Coat lube are _not_ touching mine. You want me to deliver a message, fine, I'll be your courier, but I don't see why you're fixated on me. I'm just a student who happens to know your brother."

"You know my brother…intimately…."

"Hardly," I snorted.

"'Hardly,'" he mimicked. "Is it? Are you sure?" He cocked his head slightly, then started speaking in my voice. "'Technically, Data, _our_ relationship is intimate. It's just not…it's just not sexual.' Need I go on?"

"How did you know about that conversation?"

"Ah-ah-ah. That's for me to know…and my brother to go crazy trying to figure out. Now do you want to deliver my message, or do you want me to start blowing up sectors of this 'base?"

"Do I _want_ to? No."

"But you will."

"Yeah," I said. "I'll do it. It's not like you're giving me much choice. What's the message?"

"You don't honestly think I'm going to just _tell _you?"

Actually, I had. "Well…"

But he moved, then, using his right hand to span my throat, holding me immobile, while his left reached for something he'd hidden somewhere in his ill-fitting uniform. It looked a little like a small phaser blaster. "Stay very still," he hissed at me, "and this won't hurt a bit." He forced my mouth open with the muzzle of the not-a-blaster, pressed it against my tongue, and pressed the trigger. Almost immediately, he released my neck and replaced his hand on my shoulder. I still couldn't move, but at least he wasn't almost choking me anymore.

White-hot pain flooded through my mouth, and then receded, leaving me dazed and confused. "Wha' wazzat? Wha' di'you do?" I asked, though I'm not sure the words were discernible with my dry mouth and thick tongue. Something hard and metallic moved in my mouth, and I tasted blood.

"Data-solid in a tongue stud," he said, smirking. "Tell your parents it was an impulsive decision, when they ask you. And make sure my brother helps you remove it. That part's crucial, actually. And when he does, you remind him of what I said before. I had the first taste." He kept me pinned and spoke the next words against my mouth. "And the second."

As he 'favored' me with an acidic kiss, I remembered the conversation I'd had with Data in sickbay, back in February. Summoning all my courage, I raised my arms to grip at him, bracing against him as I lifted my leg and thrust my foot at his crotch with all the strength I could muster.

Thank god for all the hills, and all the walking I'd done in San Francisco that summer. And thank god for the fact that fashion-colored combat boots were a trend I'd actually embraced that year.

I could have lived without ever hearing the android version of a scream, though. I don't know if Lore was merely in shock or if he actually felt pain, but he released me and ran out of the room before I had entirely realized he was gone.

I went to the door and opened it to scan the corridor, but it was empty, so I let it _swoosh_ shut, and locked myself in. Then I went to use the restroom, and to wash my face and hands. That accomplished, I checked out my reflection in the bathroom mirror, sticking out my tongue to see my new…accessory. The stud itself looked kind of cool, even if the reason for its existence was appalling.

I was shaking by then. I knew I should call security, but something told me it would be a bad move. Or maybe I just wasn't thinking straight. I picked up my padd to send a message to Data on the _Enterprise_, but just as I was doing so, the dual tones of an incoming message and something arriving in the replicator slot distracted me.

The message was from Lore. _"Little Pigeon, I'm sure I don't need to tell you that if you warn anyone the results will be very, very bad. I've had a drink and some after-care instructions delivered to your room. Drink the entire glass, and don't worry…I wouldn't go through the trouble of piercing your tongue just to poison you right after. Oh, and give Data my love. I'm doing all this for him, you know." _

I turned the device off and went to the replicator to retrieve the drink, which turned out to be a mild anesthetic. Drinking it made the throbbing pain go away, and calmed my nerves a little as well. I picked up my padd again, this time just sending a note to Data telling him where to find me, and then I stripped the bedspread off the bed, removed my boots, and curled up on top of the blanket.

The explosion came about ten minutes later, and lit up the area immediately beyond the window – the blinds hadn't been closed. From the bed, I could see bits of shuttlecraft and ships drifting outside the Starbase. A few minutes later, a second explosion rocked the entire base, lights flickered off and then back on, and emergency klaxons activated.

As I listened to the disembodied voice on the PA system telling Starbase personnel to report to duty stations, emergency services personnel to go to specific locations, Starfleet personnel to check in, and everyone else to stay either in their assigned hotel room or transit lounge, I sent a prayer to the universe that no one had been killed or seriously injured, that the _Enterprise _would arrive sooner rather than later, and that my mother wouldn't hear anything until I was safe.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44671.10 **

**(Saturday, 2 September 2367, 22:56 hours, local time) **

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have, because when I woke up everything was quiet, and the in-room comm-system informed me that nearly twelve hours had gone by. Also? The _Enterprise_ was visible from the window, and I'd never felt so reassured by the sight of a starship.

My tongue was throbbing again, and I definitely wasn't thinking clearly, because I sat on the bed staring at the great ship outside for several minutes before it occurred to me that I should contact someone.

I looked around for my padd, but before I could activate it, or use the comm-system on the desk, there was a signal at the door, followed by my temporary comm-badge crackling to life. _"Zoe Harris, this is Data. I am outside your assigned quarters. Are you alright?"_

I tapped the badge. "I'm here, and I'm fine," I said, slurring the words a little because my tongue was swollen. "Mostly." The computer didn't respond to my order to unlock the door. "But I can't get the door open," I said.

_"Starbase systems were damaged,"_ he informed me. _"I will open it manually. Stand away from the door, please."_

"Okay." I stepped back from the door, watching as the edge of it bowed, and then marveling as a white-gold hand punched through, and then gripped it, and forced it to slide open. "Data!" I couldn't have stopped myself from running to him if I'd tried. I crashed into him, wrapping him in a fierce hug.

His arms came around me in the way that had become almost familiar, which didn't surprise me. What _did_ startle me was that he let go of me with one arm after a few moments, and stroked my hair. It was the briefest of touches, but it was enough to make me draw back and look up into his eyes – eyes that were at once just like and _nothing like_ his brother's.

Tears threatened but I forced myself to smile and admit: "Oh, Data, I missed you _so_ much."

Then I fainted.

* * *

**Notes: **Ostinato is a specific type of crescendo involving a repeating pattern (it can also mean 'stubborn' or 'persistent'). (Revised. 6 November 2016)


	2. Awkward

**Awkward**

**Stardate 44671.10 **

**(Saturday, 2 September 2367, 22:56 hours, local time) **

**Starbase Twelve**

_Tears threatened but I forced myself to smile and admit: "Oh, Data, I missed you so much." _

_Then I fainted._

I came back to awareness just long enough to realize that Data had gathered me into his arms, and requested immediate beam-out. It was my second trip through a transporter, and just like the first, I missed it.

I woke up a second time to dim light and the sensation that I was safe and comfortable. Disoriented, I felt a hypo being pressed against my arm, and Dr. Crusher's voice telling me to rest.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44671.54 **

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 02:44 hours, ship's time) **

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_

I woke up – _again_ \- some time later, to the sound of purring, and the feeling of my hair being pulled. I reached out, and made contact with fur. Cautiously, I opened my eyes, only to find an orange and white cat, previously known to me only in video recordings, sitting on the pillow – pillow? – next to my head, playing with my hair.

Abruptly, I realized I was no longer in the hotel room. Nor was I in my own room on the _Enterprise, _or in sickbay. I sat up in what was a surprisingly comfortable bed, and looked around. Realization came in a burst of embarrassment. I'd been in this room before, but only to walk through to the bathroom during a lesson that ran long, or that one time when Data was… I let my thoughts trail off.

I was in Data's bed. With Data's cat.

I assessed further.

I was fully dressed, except for my boots (which I hadn't been wearing when my rescuer had broken through the hotel room door) in _Data's bed_.

This wasn't going to be awkward at_ all_.

A tug on my hair told me that Spot was still playing with it. "Heyyy, that's attached," I said softly, extricating her claws. She moved to sit next to me, and for a moment, watching her claws flexing, I thought she was going to take a swipe at me. Instead she butted my hand with her head in the universal signal for _pet me, now, feeble human. _

I complied.

I should have known that Data would hear movement, because his silhouette appeared in the partly-opened door. "Zoe," he said softly. "Are you awake?"

"Awake, embarrassed, in pain, hungry, and really confused. Also, I'm apparently a living source of macramé yarn for your cat."

"There was no indication that you were injured when Dr. Crusher scanned you," he said. "Are you able to join me in the main room? If so, I will ensure that the third and fourth conditions are alleviated, and endeavor to help you eradicate the fifth."

"You're not going to address the embarrassment part?" I asked, teasing gently.

"If you are embarrassed because you…collapsed…" he said, "then you should know that you were exhibiting symptoms of shock and low blood sugar. The doctor gave you a nutritional supplement and a mild sedative before leaving you here, in my care."

"That's…part of it…" I admitted. "Why am I not in sickbay?"

"The _Enterprise_ is helping to treat those who were injured in the explosions on the starbase," he explained. "Since you did not appear to be emergent, and since your mother is on leave, Counselor Troi and Dr. Crusher suggested that keeping you here would be preferable to leaving you alone."

"If I were more awake, or less in pain, I would point out the obvious flaw in that decision," I said, and honestly, snarking at him made me feel a little more normal. "If you have my padd somewhere, there should be a document detailing aftercare for a tongue piercing. That's what hurts. Also, if I'm 'in your care' for the night, I'd really like to change to something I haven't been wearing for a gazillion years."

He refrained from correcting my time estimate. "Your belongings are in the main room. I will read the document in question," he said, "and have a solution waiting for you when you have changed."

"Thanks," I said. "Um…should I go get my suitcase, or…?"

"I will bring it." He went to do that then returned, instructing the computer to raise the level of the lights in the room. "I will need the password for your padd," he said."

I gave it to him, and then bent to open my suitcase. Just as the door closed, I remembered where those aftercare instructions had come from. Well, I was going to have to tell him sooner or later. I used the bathroom, washed my hands and face, and changed into a tank top and sweat pants. Then I pulled out the gifts I'd brought for Data and Spot and went to the main part of the room.

True to his word, Data had read the notes on aftercare. A shot-glass of a thick liquid that I recognized as the same painkiller Lore had replicated was waiting next to a glass of ice water on his dining table, at the place I'd occupied whenever I was doing coursework in music theory, or shared a meal before or after a lesson. Data was sitting in the chair opposite, and he gestured for me to join him.

"Drink the painkiller first," he said, his voice soft and serious. "The ice water is to sip during our meal."

I took my seat, putting both packages on the table, and chugged the smaller of the two drinks, feeling the throbbing pain in my mouth recede almost instantly. "Better," I said. "Thank you."

A ding from the replicator signaled that our meal was ready, and Data went to retrieve two spinach and mushroom omelets. "The aftercare instructions recommended soft foods, at first. You will need to rinse your mouth out immediately following."

I nodded. "I'll do that," I said. "Thank you."

We didn't talk much during breakfast? Dinner? Whatever. Partly this was because I was so hungry, I couldn't have managed a conversation if I wanted to. Partly it was because we both knew what the only possible subject would be.

When my plate was cleaned, and I'd finished sipping the glass of ice water, I excused myself to brush my teeth, and rinse my mouth. I didn't have mouthwash with me, so I used his – it was another 'fleet issue product, but it worked – assuming he wouldn't object. I did have a moment of embarrassment at the implied intimacy of sharing hygiene products, but…on a scale of zero to a thousand, I figured generic mouthwash was about a level two.

I padded back out to the living area, and tucked myself into my corner of his couch. "You made tea?"

"Tea and confidences are our ritual," he reminded me gently. "And I did promise to share tea with you upon your return." He dislodged Spot from _his_ corner of the couch, and we waited for her to resettle before he handed my padd back to me, Lore's message displayed on the screen. "Zoe, when were you going to tell me you had encountered Lore?"

I closed my eyes against the prick of unwanted tears, but opened them before answering. "If I hadn't fainted, I'd have told you as soon as we were back here," I told him truthfully. "But I did, and then I woke up in your bed – how did three incredibly intelligent adults determine that a single man was the best guardian for a sixteen-year-old girl, by the way? – And you saw the note before I had a chance. I mean, what did you expect from me? 'Hi Data, love you, missed you, by the way, your brother left a message for you in my mouth.'"

I wasn't hysterical, but we both knew snark and ranting were my strongest defense mechanisms, and I was scared. I wasn't so much worried for my physical safety, as I was about the possibility that I might lose Data's friendship. On top of that, I was mortified at what I'd just blurted, and terrified that he would pick apart what I'd just said.

On the last point, I needn't have been worried. He let my words wash over him, and stayed focused on the questions he needed me to answer. "I am sorry to cause you further distress," he said, "but you must tell me exactly what happened. I can call Counselor Troi to join us, if her presence would help."

"No," I said. I picked up the mug of tea and took a careful sip. The hot liquid felt weird in my mouth, but no weirder than food had, and the mint flavor was soothing. "Either I trust you or I don't. And I do." I kept the cup cradled in my hands, and gave him my best blow-by-blow of everything that happened from the moment Lore showed up at the café, to the moment Data had forced the hotel room door open.

When I'd finished, he began asking more specific questions.

"Why did you leave the café with him?"

"I felt like I didn't really have a choice," I said. "I mean, he'd pointed out that it would take time for help to arrive, by which time he'd be gone, and he was dressed like you. Well, he was wearing an old uniform. It was out of date, by the way. The only reason I knew it was him was because he wanted me to…if security had come, he'd have passed himself off as you, and it would have been my word against the second officer of Starfleet's flagship. Who would _you_ believe?"

"A valid point," he conceded. "Did he say anything that might provide a key to his motivation?"

"I don't know. He seemed to think our relationship – yours and mine – was more than it is. Oh! He quoted a conversation you and I had in this room. He quoted _me._"

"Which conversation?"

"When I said that our relationship was intimate, but not…"

"Intimate, but not sexual," he supplied. "An interesting choice, and, as we agreed then, not an inaccurate assessment."

"Data, that conversation was…here."

"I am aware of that," he said, not at all curtly. "It is disturbing, and I will investigate how it is possible as soon as we have finished our conversation."

I was quiet for a long moment. I felt like I was forgetting something, but couldn't figure out _what. _"Anyway, he put the piercing gun in my mouth, and," I gestured to my face, "and this happened, and he kissed me, and said to remind you that he'd had the first taste, and the second."

I lowered my eyes. "I never told you that part about February. I was embarrassed, and Counselor Troi didn't think it was relevant except to goad you. But _then_, when he kissed me _then_, he told me to tell you that he'd had the first taste." I met his eyes again. "When I have nightmares, that's what I hear him say."

"I…see," came his somewhat discomfited response. I could tell he was processing everything I was telling him. I could practically hear gears spinning inside his head. Okay, not really, but… "Zoe," he said very gently. "Did Lore…force himself on you, sexually?"

Part of me wanted to laugh at his polite phrasing. It seemed so out of character. "You mean, did he rape me?"

His golden eyes met my gaze and held it. "Yes."

"No. He didn't."

"Did he…seduce you?"

I wondered what prompted him to differentiate the two. Was it because, since last February, he'd learned the extent of my relationship with T'vek? Or because he really did know that I'd been crushing on him for months?

"What? No! Data, I swear the only penetration of any kind was in my mouth." I could feel myself paling from the implication of that phrase. "With the piercing gun," I amended quickly.

"If he did…"

"If I'd thought rape was on his mind, I _would_ have called for help. You said last time, if he wanted to cause me physical harm, he could have. He _would_ have. He said I matter to you, and so I was useful to him. Anyway, rape isn't his style. Coercion? Possibly. Seduction? Definitely. But not rape."

"You seem certain."

"I _am_ certain. Also, I made sure of it while he was kissing me." Data gave me a look that clearly meant I should elaborate. "I kicked him in the balls. Thanks for the information that it would work, by the way. Though, you might have warned me about how horrible his scream would sound."_ Or that he would taste like acid. _

"I did not know," he said. "Somewhat ironically, you are now in a position of knowing my brother more intimately than I do."

I shivered. "Did you have to phrase it that way? I know I once asked you about meeting him, but that was when he was an idea and not a rather brutal reality." We were both quiet for a while after that. Finally, I asked. "Data…what do we do now? I mean, you have to report this, don't you?"

"That is standard protocol," he said.

"And Lore's message to you… the data-solid in my tongue…. Can you remove it?"

"I will have to examine it more closely first," he said.

"Yeah, that won't be awkward at all," I said, more to myself than to him. "When you _do_ report this, can you _not_ be specific about the nature of the conversation he quoted? Out of context it's…"

"I do not believe that level of detail will be necessary."

I opened my mouth to thank him, but yawned instead. "Sorry," I said sheepishly. "It's been… kind of a day."

"Go and rest," he suggested in a tone that made it clear I shouldn't argue. "I will begin my investigation, and contact the captain and Lt. Worf, as well as the doctor and the counselor. Someone will wake you when you are needed."

We stood up at the same time. He returned the tea things to the replicator in preparation for his investigation, and I moved toward the bedroom – his bedroom. A part of me flashed back to the beginning of the year, when he'd guarded my sleep during my mother's recuperation. A part of me indulged in a moment of fantasy about a future when sleeping in his bed would mean something very different.

"Data?"

"Is something wrong, Zoe?"

I wanted a hug, but didn't want to ask. Apparently, a rather intense year of friendship had been long enough for him to recognize when I needed reassurance. "No, never mind."

"I have observed that when you are anxious about something, you are usually soothed by a hug. Would you like one now?"

"Yes, please." I turned around and let him enfold me in his arms. It wasn't a long embrace. But it was enough.

Spot, having decided that I either needed a friend or a guard, was already on the bed. I instructed the computer to dim the lights and curled up on the bed trying not to be hyper-aware of where I was, and why.

I wasn't a cat-fan by any means, but sometimes the soft purring of an animal is the best soporific around.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44672.03 **

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 07:02 hours, ship's time) **

It was Data who woke me up again, a few hours later, though in all honesty, my sleep had been fitful. I kept not-quite dreaming, and not-quite waking up. Considering that I'd slept away a good chunk of the previous day on Starbase Twelve, and then been sedated for several hours after that, the fact that I'd slept at all was miraculous.

"Zoe, I am sorry to disturb you, but the captain has asked the senior staff to be in Conference Room One at eight hundred hours, and your presence is required as well."

"What time is it now?" I asked, pushing my hair away from my face.

"Two minutes after seven. I was uncertain how much time you would need to 'get ready,' or whether you wished to shower."

"Here?" I asked, alarm and embarrassment warring for dominance. "I can't shower _here._"

"Zoe, I may be an android, but I can assure you there is nothing atypical about the shower in my quarters. You have used the bathroom more than once." Anyone else would have been a bit testy. His tone was oddly flat, even for him.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Honestly, not everything has to do with you being an android," I said. "In fact, most things don't." I took a deep breath; my litany of the levels of wrongness could wait. "How dressed-up do I need to be? I only have summer clothes in my suitcase, but I don't think there's time to run home and change."

"If you have any clothing that does not display writing, that would be best," he answered calmly. "No one will judge you on your attire…" He stopped in the middle of his thought. "Do not move." I stayed where I was, sitting on his bed, while he turned on his heel and left the room, returning with a tricorder. "Do you typically wear jewelry to bed?" he asked.

"Jewelry?" I tried to remember if I was wearing earrings, or not.

"Your bracelet," he said, aiming the tricorder at my wrist.

I looked down at the circle of turquoise, green, and white beads and then back up at him. "Mala beads aren't really jewelry," I said, evading his question. He opened his mouth, probably to refute my statement, but I cut him off, explaining in a low voice, "_You_ gave it to me; I don't ever take it off."

I don't know if it was the tricorder reading or my statement that made him match my tone, but what he said was, "I am gratified that it pleases you," followed swiftly by, "there is an extra bead."

"What?"

"When I gave you that bracelet for your birthday, there were twenty-seven beads. There are currently twenty-eight." He tapped a command into the tricorder, then scanned my wrist again. "I believe I know how Lore heard our conversations, as well as how he was able to track you to Earth and Starbase Twelve."

"A bug?" I asked. "He planted a bug in my bracelet. When?" I thought for a moment. "Oh. After he knocked me out. But…that means he was planning it? He was planning to find me back in February?"

"It would appear so," Data said gravely.

I did not burst into tears. Instead I said. "If you want me ready for an eight AM meeting, you need to leave the room now."

"I will need to take your bracelet with me."

"Will I get it back?" I asked, automatically. "No, never mind. It doesn't matter. Not really." I held out my wrist and let him undo the fastener, leaving my wrist feeling oddly naked. As soon as he left the room, I dashed for the bathroom.

We made it to the conference room at exactly seven-fifty-nine.

* * *

**Notes: **The bracelet was Data's gift to Zoe back in _Crush_, chapter 42. Lore knocked Zoe out in chapter 44, and her reactions to that incident began in chapter 45. Music will resume shortly. (For Data's POV of the last half of this chapter and the beginning of the next, see my one-shot _In Conference_.) (Revised 6 November 2016)


	3. Arrangements

**Arrangements**

**Stardate 44672.16 **

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 09:31 hours, ship's time.) **

As it turned out, meetings of the entire senior staff - well, at least the key players among the staff – were less formal and slightly less intimidating than I'd imagined them to be.

Counselor Troi and Commander LaForge greeted me with hugs, while Commander Riker merely touched my shoulder as he skirted by me to take his seat. I couldn't figure out when Data had conferred with people, but it was obvious that the seat I was directed to, and the fact that he and the Counselor were flanking me while Geordi was directly across from me, was planned for my comfort.

They'd even arranged things so I could see out the large window that dominated the outer bulkhead wall. It wasn't quite seeing where we were going – the ship hadn't left Starbase Twelve yet, for one thing – but it was nice to have a view. Seeing the stars was actually sort of relaxing.

Data relayed his version of the past day or so, from the moment he burst into my hotel room, and then I told mine. Questions - many of them following along the same lines as those Data had asked me privately - were put to me, and I answered them as best as I could. Then Data explained about my bracelet, and shared that Lore had apparently made the switch all the way back in February. This elicited a non-verbal growl from Lieutenant Worf, but he seemed to be growling at the situation, and not at Data or me.

It was agreed that Data would try to locate Lore, and then they moved on to other business. I hadn't been asked to leave, so I listened as the talk turned to the status of those who were injured – and killed – in the explosions.

The counselor asked if the bomber had been captured, and the growly security chief shared that the Keep Earth Human League was "…taking credit for the incident." I wasn't adept at reading his tone, but my guess was that he was singularly unimpressed with the group's mission and motives.

But hearing him mention KEHL made me remember what it was I'd forgotten to tell Data, and had not included in my 'report' just a few minutes before. "That's it!" I exclaimed as my memories clicked back into order.

Data and the captain spoke at the same time, the former asking me what was wrong, the latter, much more crisply, demanding, "Ms. Harris, have you something to add?"

I took a breath, and tightened my grip on Data's hand under the table – I'd warned him in the turbo-lift that I would probably need hand-holding to get through the meeting - before I answered. "When I was telling Data what happened last night, and when I was telling everyone again this morning, I kept feeling like I was forgetting something."

The counselor seemed to sense that I hadn't gone over that part of my story, and that I was suddenly feeling nervous. Earlier, she'd wrapped a friendly arm around me. Now, she squeezed my shoulder in reassurance.

It helped.

"Continue," the captain urged, but his expression remained open.

"Data asked me last night –"

"This morning –" Leave it to Data to correct the timeline.

"This morning, whatever," I amended, slightly annoyed with him. I continued, addressing him, even though my words were really meant for everyone, "…when you asked why I went with Lore – I forgot. I _forgot_ he'd told me in the café that he wanted me to carry a message. I even asked him if I looked like a carrier pigeon."

"Can you remember Lore's exact words, Zoe?" the captain asked in the kind of gentle tone that parents use with very excitable children.

My hand was a vise around Data's and if whatever he had instead of organic flesh hadn't been incredibly durable, I'd probably have pierced it with my nails. He shifted my grip, so that it was his hand enveloping mine, and I felt him press his thumb press into the back of it, between my own thumb and forefinger. In the back of my mind, I recalled him telling me that it was a pressure point for tension relief. He'd demonstrated it during one of our Saturday Sessions when my hands were sore from too much practicing. But that had been… before. At that that moment, I focused on the bloom of heat that came with his touch, and after a few seconds, I was relaxed enough to face the captain.

"He said, 'you look like someone who wouldn't want to be responsible for the destruction of a Starbase and the death of the good people who inhabit it.'" I paused to sip some of the water from the glass that had been set before me. "Captain Picard – everyone – I'm obviously about as well-trained as a Rigellian ringed wombat –" Geordi's lips twitched in response to that. "- but I saw the KEHL people at customs. The agent who handled my paperwork said they'd been there for weeks, but they still hadn't figured out that they should hold their demonstrations at the Earth-bound departure lounge instead of arrivals."

I had watched Data process information more than once. Now I saw the captain performing a more organic version of the same practice. It lasted several seconds, and then he asked, speaking very slowly, "Mr. Data, is it possible that Lore was actually responsible for these bombings?"

Data said that it was, and then the captain started handing out assignments, including one for me, though that was just to let the doctor examine the tongue-stud.

As everyone began to leave, Data stood with me, almost hovering. I watched him interacting with his colleagues: he confirmed with the doctor that he had given me a painkiller; he told Lt. Worf that they'd be conferring in about an hour and a half, and he received a friendly clap on the shoulder from Geordi, and then it was just the two of us again.

"Well, that was only slightly worse than a dental appointment," I snarked. "I'm sorry for being less than helpful."

"On the contrary, you handled yourself very well," he countered.

"I didn't," I couldn't help but protest. "I was terrified, and I felt so _stupid, _and I had to hold your hand like I was some idiot child."

"I beg to differ. You may have felt 'terrified' but you presented yourself with calm and poise. As to your need to hold my hand, is it not natural to seek support and reassurance in a new situation?"

"Well… yes," I agreed, somewhat reluctantly, and then I was moved to confess, "I didn't want to disappoint you."

He was quick to assure me, his tone as serious as I'd ever heard it, "You have not. Indeed, you _could _not."

Inexplicably, his reassuring words made my eyes misty. Wanting – no, _needing_ – to make a gesture of appreciation for being supportive and kind during the meeting, as well as for refraining from lectures or judgement when I'd initially told him what happened, and finding that words were not enough, I rose to my tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

It was probably just my imagination, but when my lips touched his skin, the metal stud in my tongue seemed to get slightly warmer.

Data lifted his hand to touch the spot I'd kissed, lowering it almost immediately, but he seemed to be as much at a loss for words as I was.

Finally, I asked. "Do meetings make everyone hungry, or just me? Do you think we could have breakfast before I have to submit to being poked and prodded by Dr. Crusher?" I didn't give him space to answer, just babbled on, "And… after that, could we get my stuff from your quarters so I can go home. You're awesome, and everything, and I know you had me stay with you so I'd be watched over, but…"

Data stared at me with wide golden eyes for over a second. When he finally answered me, it was with a question: "Is Ten-Forward an acceptable breakfast location?" Then _he_ continued without missing a beat, just as I had. "If so, I will inform both Lt. Worf and the doctor that we will both be delayed, and I will escort you to your quarters after you have eaten."

_It's a date_, I didn't say, but a part of me wanted to, so I just smiled at him instead. I let him lead the way out of the conference room and to the bank of turbo-lifts, though I asked him as we walked, "Data, you know how I said in one of my letters that I wanted to see what you were like on duty?"

"Of course, Zoe. I have a perfect memory record of every letter and call we exchanged while you were away."

"Well, I should have been more specific. I really didn't want to observe you at work on a mission involving me."

He tilted his head at me, but all he said was, "Indeed."

**(=A=) **

**Stardate 44672.67 **

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 12:38 hours, ship's time) **

"Okay, Zoe, open wide,"

Dr. Crusher had already scanned me from head to toe, but apparently, that wasn't enough. The next trick in her repertoire was an old-school visual inspection of my mouth, of the kind that involved pen-lights and tongue depressors. Never had I been so glad to have brushed my teeth and rinsed my mouth after breakfast. I mean, sure, warding off a potential infection in the hole in my tongue was great, but it was good to know the doctor wouldn't find anything gross during her… investigation.

"Is it still causing you pain?" she asked, while still holding my tongue with a pair of things that looked like tiny tongs. Why did doctors and dentists always do that? Unable to answer, I gave her my best slitty-eyed glare. "Sorry," she laughed lightly. "I hate it when dentists do that, too." She released my tongue, and gave me a moist towelette to clean the lower half of my face.

"So, is there any chance I can lose the jewelry before my mom gets back?" I asked.

Her smiling face crinkled into a frown. "I'm not sure," she said. "It _looks_ very much like a standard barbell stud, but the balls on each end seem to be fused by some chemical compound. I'm running the analysis through the computer, but I'm honestly not even sure what to look for."

"Lore said it contained a data-solid. That would imply that there's a way to remove it without, you know, yanking my tongue out of my mouth."

"Nobody's doing any yanking," she agreed. "Do you remember anything else?"

I closed my eyes, trying to put myself back in the hotel room, on the bed. "He used a piercing gun that looked like a small phaser blaster. He forced my mouth open, pressed it against my tongue, and then there was a kind of muffled click, and then white-hot pain."

"Did you smell anything? Taste anything?"

"His breath was hot and smelled kind of oily and metallic. I don't know if that's normal… I mean… I kissed Data today and didn't smell that, but…" I trailed off in response to the look on her face. "What?"

"You kissed Data?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not some teenage nymphomaniac desperate to hit on my tutor," I said. "He took care of me last night and this morning. He let me hold his hand all through that meeting. I kissed him on the cheek. It was… there was nothing improper or inappropriate."

She shifted ever-so-slightly into mom-mode, and ruffled my hair. "Of course it wasn't," she said. "I didn't mean to imply anything wrong."

"No, it's fine," I said, lowering my voice. "I guess it's time to own my crush, instead of denying it, just… don't tell _him_, please?"

"Not a word," she promised. "Although," she added speculatively, "as close as the two of you seem to be, and as protective as Data is of you, I wouldn't be surprised if something real did develop between you, over time."

"The friendship we already have _is_ real," I pointed out. "But even if I wasn't in his class, I'm too young, and he's a line officer, and I doubt he'd ever even be interested in me, so…" I sighed. "Anyway, I'm sixteen; I'm supposed to have crushes on wildly inappropriate people."

She smiled the mom-smile at me again. "You're handling everything with Lore so well, that I forget you're two years younger than Wesley sometimes."

"Oh! Wesley!" I shifted on the bio-bed, and nearly elbowed her in the nose. "He sent back a present for you, and I forgot to bring it when I came down here."

"Well, m'dear, you can bring it by later, or you can join Deanna and me for dinner in Ten-Forward and bring it there."

I was about to accept, when another thought crossed my mind. "I'd like that," I said, "but I haven't seen Dana and Annette since I left, and I'd really like to hook up with them. Unless… maybe you and Counselor Troi wouldn't mind if all of us joined you?"

She grinned. "I think it could be fun," she said. "Now, scoot. You're not sick, just slightly…"

"Perforated?" I suggested. "Apparently, Lore never got the 'do not fold, spindle, or mutilate' message."

The doctor laughed again. "Well, you have a good attitude, at least. Call me if the pain gets worse. Data's already sent the painkiller he had you drink to the replicator in your quarters. Have a dose before bedtime. In a day or so, you probably won't need it, but I'd feel better knowing you were getting good rest."

"Okay," I said. "And thanks." Impulsively, I hugged her, and after a beat, I felt her pat my back. Why did mothers – even other people's mothers - always do that? "See you at dinner."

**(=A=)**

Annette and Dana were waiting for me when I got to my quarters, and they immediately pulled me into a group hug.

"So," Annette asked, "how's our intrepid traveler?"

I grinned. "Come inside, and I'll tell all." Well, the edited version of all. I entered the passcode and they followed me inside, where my cello and suitcase were still sitting in the middle of the living room.

"Didn't you get back late last night?" Dana asked.

"Um… sort of. Let me go change to normal clothes and then we'll make snacks and you can get your presents."

"You brought us presents?" Annette asked, "Zoe, you didn't have to. Hey, what do you want to eat?"

"Something soft," I said. "Ice cream? Pie? A cheese omelet. I have a … thing… in my mouth." I dragged my suitcase into my room, and closed the door behind me, stripping off the sundress, and exchanging it for a pair of jeans and an ACT t-shirt. I collected the presents for my friends, and returned.

"A 'thing' in your mouth?" Dana demanded. I opened my mouth to show them. "Oh, god. Zoe. You pierced your tongue."

"Did I? I hadn't noticed." I couldn't help teasing them a little.

"Zoe!"

"Sorry, Dana. It's just… there's a long story behind it, and it's complicated and I don't know if I'm allowed to share it with anyone, but I will say that I think this totally elevates my credibility as a rebel."

"Does your mother know?" my best friend asked.

"More to the point, does _Theo_ know?" Annette added.

"No one knows except you two and Dr. Crusher," I said. "And Theo and I decided it was better if we were just friends."

"But you two seemed like you were on your way to more…" Annette protested.

"He was so sweet," Dana added.

"We were, and we weren't," I explained. "But yes, he was sweet. Is sweet." I thrust their packages at them. "Here, open these."

They settled at the dining table to open their gifts, and I went to the replicator, and got tomato soup and grilled cheese for three. "Annette, your second package is from Wes," I told her, as I delivered our tray to the table, then went back for iced tea. "He made me promise not to let it stay with the stuff Mom and Ed are carting home for me."

"Oh, Zoe, you shouldn't have," Annette held up the scarf I'd picked for her.

"Well, you said you were hoping to be heading off to Edinburgh for college next year; I wanted you to be prepared for those soggy Scottish winters. Besides, I thought the gray and purple would suit you."

She wound it around her neck, "I love it," she said. "Now I want to see what Wes sent." And we watched while she opened that package as well. "Oh...this is lovely," it was a pin made from polished rocks. "You and he went shopping together, didn't you?"

"I might've given him some input," I allowed. "But it was his idea. Actually, both pieces – and Dana's too – came from an arts and crafts fair in one of the parks. Theo and some of his friends instituted a tradition where we all went to brunch on Sundays after he and his aunt went to church, and Wes joined us some of the time." My tone softened. "I think he's a little lonely at the Academy. He has so much practical experience, but he's never had to really compete before."

"You sound like you learned something about competition yourself," Dana observed, as she tore open the paper wrapping on her package. "Oh, Zoe… these are awesome." She held up the collection of hair ties I'd picked for her.

"I figured, just because you have a thing for ponytails doesn't mean you can't have really snazzy ones."

She leaned over to give me a one-armed hug. "I love them; thank you."

"I brought Josh a t-shirt; I hope that's okay?"

"He'll love it," she assured me. "But what did you bring for _Data_."

"What makes you think I brought anything to him?" I asked, using my best nonchalant tone.

"Zoe!" Dana protested.

"We all know you're his favorite, Zo'," Annette elaborated. "You and he are actual friends, not just teacher and student."

"Alright," I conceded, "I brought him something, but he hasn't opened it yet, I don't think, so I'm not telling."

"Spoilsport," Annette grumbled good-naturedly.

"How 'bout, instead, I tell you about the drama instructor I had. He's this big bear of a Scotsman, and for the first week or two, I was convinced he hated me. Every exercise he asked us to do made me uncomfortable and awkward, and I actually called my father crying at one point." I waited a beat, and then added in a very soft voice. "I even called _Data_, crying about him."

"You? Crying? About a teacher. I don't believe it," Dana said.

"_You've_ never met Lachlan Meade," I said. And then I told them everything that had happened at ACT, at Suzuki, and in between, including seeing T'vek again. By the time I was done, and they had shared the events of their 'summer' break, it was time to meet Dr. Crusher and Counselor Troi for dinner.

* * *

**Notes:** For Data's side of the end of the previous chapter and the beginning of this one, see my one-shot _In Conference. _For purposes of this story, Data's quarters are on deck 8, and he's always had the two-room suite he should have had as 2nd officer. (Revised, 6 November 2016)


	4. Bedtime Rituals

**Bedtime Rituals**

**Stardate 44673.47 **

**(Sunday, 3 September 2367, 19:38 hours, ship's time)**

Dinner had been light and fun, which was exactly what I needed that night. The doctor and the counselor had insisted we use their first names, at least for the duration of the meal, and while I usually had no problem with that practice – Data had always been just 'Data' to me, Geordi was 'Geordi,' and Professor Benoit had been 'Ed' even before he'd started dating my mother – for some reason, with these two women, I felt as though I hadn't earned the right.

Annette had no such compunction, and, oddly, neither did the usually conservative Dana, so I forced myself to push through the awkwardness, and ultimately enjoyed the evening. We talked about Annette's college plans, and whether Dana and I had chosen schools yet. We talked about first loves and how relationships change over time.

At one point Dr. Crusher – _Beverly – _said that as much as she had loved her late husband Jack, a part of her wished she'd waited longer to get married.

"How old were you?" I asked.

"In my early twenties," she answered. "That's pretty early these days."

"Gran – my father's mother, Irene Harris – has this theory that women shouldn't marry before they turn thirty. Well, human women, anyway."

Everyone was suddenly very attentive. "Your grandmother sounds like she has a lot of opinions about marriage," Counselor Troi – _Deanna_ – commented.

"Oh, she does," I said. "She has this letter she writes to all the girls in the family when they turn sixteen, with a sort of checklist."

"A checklist," Dana asked. "You never mentioned a checklist. Did you get a letter?"

"I did," I said. "Although, I had to ask for mine."

"How come?" Annette wanted to know.

"I guess she figured I'd been around to read enough of the letters my cousins had received, and I lived with her, when my dad stopped taking me on tour with him, to have sort of… osmosed …all her advice; but it's not all about marriage, it's sort of… about life."

"So," Deanna asked, "what's the checklist, Zoe?"

I rolled my eyes, "You really want to know?"

"Yes!" chorused my two friends and our adult companions.

I began ticking items off on my fingers. "Never trust your partner to be responsible for birth control. Always know how to please yourself so you can tell your partner. You don't have to marry the first person you sleep with, or, for that matter, at all. You shouldn't get married before you turn thirty. Whatever age you get married, even if it's just a limited contract marriage, make sure you've finished your education, lived independently for at least a year, traveled, and had at least one truly tragic love affair."

"That's very good advice," the counselor observed. "Anything else?"

I thought about it. "Not about that, but… she's an activist from a long line of activists, so she's always pushed being well-read, well-informed, and having opinions. When my cousin Vanessa turned eighteen, Gran took her on a special weekend trip that included making sure she registered to vote. And of course, she taught all of us that music is one of the most vital forms of communication."

"Sounds like a very wise woman," the doctor observed.

"She taught at Starfleet Academy for a while," I said. "As a civilian guest lecturer, I think. I know that's how Mom and Dad met… and I think Commander Riker mentioned taking her class."

"I'd forgotten his time at the Academy overlapped with your mother's," said Deanna. Then she glanced at Dana and Annette, "What advice did your mothers or grandmothers pass down to you?" she asked.

Annette spoke first. "Always bring something when you're invited to someone's house, even if it's just a plant. Always leave a place better than you found it, clean up after yourself, and offer to help with the dishes."

"Also good advice," Deanna pronounced. "Dana?"

"It's going to sound really silly," she warned. "But the thing I remember her saying most – other than that it never costs a thing to be polite – is 'always wear clean underwear.'"

For a moment, we were all silent, and then we burst into collective laughter. We were so boisterous that we drew Guinan's attention, and she stopped by our table, hovering between Dana's chair and mine, with hand resting on the back of each. "You are all having too much fun over here," she said by way of a greeting. "I came to see if I could join in."

"We're sharing sage advice," the doctor said. "Got any for us?" Amusement made her voice sound musical.

"Yes," she said, "and I see you've already taken it: share a meal with friends whenever possible, support other women, and never be afraid to laugh." She glanced at the remains of the meal we'd shared – an array of pasta dishes in deference to my still-slightly-sore tongue. "I can see you've finished your meal. Do you want dessert?"

"Only if it's chocolate," Deanna and I said together.

"And kind of mushy," Dana added, making a face at me. "Zoe's got a tongue piercing."

"Dana!"

"What? It's not like you can hide it. It sort of… sparkles… every time you open your mouth."

"Let me see?" Guinan asked, so I turned my head and opened my mouth to show her. "Hmm. Not what I would have picked for you, but not bad. Removing it will be interesting."

I stared into her fathomless black eyes for a long moment, wondering exactly what she knew.

"I may decide to keep it," I hedged.

"No, I don't think so," was her response. "I'll send someone to clear your dishes and bring out some chocolate mousse." Her hand grazed my shoulder as she left, and I'm sure it was on purpose. Oddly, that brief contact left me feeling a little more settled.

After dessert, I handed out the presents. The counselor, was delighted by the box of chocolate cable cars. "Kitschy, I know," I said, "but how could I resist?"

"I'm glad you didn't."

The doctor's gift was the one from Wes that I'd forgotten to bring to sickbay: a hand painted silk scarf. Just as Annette had, earlier, the red-haired woman said, "Zoe, you helped pick this out, didn't you?"

"I might have nudged Wes in the right direction," I hedged.

"I'm glad you two spent time together."

"Actually," I deadpanned, "He, Theo, and I have formed a support group for teens and young adults with Starfleet parents. I'm the president."

The doctor laughed and the counselor asked if she could be an honorary member, which Dana, Annette, and I pretended to consider until our chocolate mousse arrived. As we dug into the creamy goodness, Annette observed, "Commander Data has been watching our table awfully carefully."

"Considering that the bulk of his math class is at this table, he's probably just considering how much mathier our tutorial can be," I joked.

"'Mathier?' Zoe, really?"

I shrugged. "That or he's enjoying a chance to observe multiple generations of women at once." I used the nature-film narration voice I'd once used with Data himself. "Observation has shown that humanoid females have a marked fondness for chocolate-based confections, especially when a group of them congregates…"

"Zoe!" the doctor exclaimed. "That's unfair." She took a beat. "Accurate, but unfair." She was laughing when she said it.

"Why do I get the feeling that sending you off to a summer drama program created a monster?" Dana joked.

"Why would you think I wasn't a monster before?" I shot back, offering her my sweetest smile.

**(=A=)**

By ten p.m. – or rather, twenty-two hundred hours – our dinner party had broken up. Dana was meeting Josh for a bit before her curfew, Annette had a scheduled vid-call with Wesley, some ensign named Ezekiel had broken his ankle 'again,' which required Dr. Crusher's attention, and the counselor… "Zoe, it's getting late. Mind if I walk you back to quarters?"

I suspected that it wouldn't have mattered if I did mind. "Sure," I said. "Why not."

We left the table, but she didn't start talking to me again until we were in the turbolift heading down to the officers' decks.

"You had quite an adventure yesterday," she said. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged. "You tell me," I said. And then, because I knew how that must have sounded, I added quickly, "I'm not being flippant this time. I woke up in the middle of the night in Data's bed, and since then, except for napping again for a few hours, I've been going nonstop. I should be exhausted, but I haven't had a moment to really _feel_ anything, and my tongue hurts, a little, which means it's time for more painkiller, but… otherwise? I really don't know."

She touched my hand. "Slow down," she suggested quietly. "Breathe."

"Sorry. I was edging toward hysteria there, wasn't I?"

"A little," she agreed, but there was a smile in her voice.

I took a deep breath, as the turbolift doors opened onto an empty corridor. "Honestly," I said, "I know at some point everything's going to hit me and I'll be a basket case, but right now I'm just pissed off. I feel stupid and… and _used_… and I feel like I want to punch him in the nose."

We both knew the 'him' in question was Lore.

"You'd break your hand," she pointed out helpfully.

"Probably," I agreed. "But it would be so…satisfying…at least until the pain set in. Anyway, my mother's going to kill me when she finds out I have a tongue piercing, and then she'll kill me again when she finds out why, so it doesn't really matter."

"You haven't told her?"

I sighed. "I sent her a message that I was safely on the ship, and unharmed by the explosions, but the rest… she shouldn't have to hear that via subspace. All it would do is wreck her vacation, and honestly, the grounding she'll give me - for my own protection, no doubt – will probably last longer than six lifetimes, so I'm going to enjoy what little relative freedom I have left."

We were at my door by then, and I invited her in, but she declined. "I think a little alone-time is the best thing for you right now. Change to pajamas, take your painkiller, read a good book or something. You can call me or Data at any time if you need anything, even if it's just a bad dream."

"Speaking of Data…" I began. Then I stopped. "Actually, never mind. It's not that important."

She stared at me as if she didn't quite believe me, but she didn't push. "Alright. I would like you to check in with me sometime tomorrow, though."

"I will," I said. "I promise. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Zoe." She turned and left, her dark curls bouncing as she walked. Sometimes, I envied the bounciness of her hair. Mostly, I wondered how many hours it took to detangle it every day.

I went to the bathroom to wash my face, and rinse my mouth out, taking time to examine the stud in my tongue. It clicked against my teeth sometimes, but the pain was no longer as bad as it had been even a few hours before. I changed into the same tank top and sweats I'd worn in Data's quarters. There was stray cat hair on the top, and I picked it off, then curled up on my bed to read.

Only then did I realize I'd left my padd with Data.

A part of me wanted to call him and ask if I could come get it, and watch him open his present. A part of me knew that I shouldn't bother him unnecessarily.

I padded out to the main room, and replicated the shot-glass of painkiller I'd promised to take, and asked the computer for the time. It wasn't even twenty-three hundred hours, and I was half convinced the day would never actually end. I went back to my room, stripped the quilt from my bed, and wrapped it around myself, not as much for warmth as for comfort. I accessed the entertainment system, flipping through menus until I found a romantic comedy that was well-written enough to not be annoying, and curled up on the couch to watch it.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44674.05**

**(Monday 4 September 2367, 00:42 hours, ship's time) **

I don't remember falling asleep, but I know I woke up to the end-credits of the video and a purring cat batting at my hair. "Spot?" I asked, confused. "How did you get in here?"

The cat did not deign to answer.

I asked the computer for the time, and learned that a mere two or so hours had gone by, but that while I'd dozed through my video, the 'calendar page' had flipped. September 3rd was finally over, after all. I asked the computer for Data's location, learned he was on the bridge, and sent a text message offering to trade his cat for my padd, once his duty-shift was over.

I was tired, but not really in the mood to sleep – I knew there would be nightmares – but I also knew that falling asleep in front of another vid wasn't the best plan either. Since Spot seemed disinclined to get off my quilt, I scooped her up with it, set the lock code on the door, and went to rinse my mouth out one more time before bed.

It had only been two nights, but this extra oral hygiene was already becoming a new bedtime ritual. I realized that whether I still had a piercing or not, my next dental checkup would likely be fantastic.

As I slid into my bed, I instituted another bedtime ritual: I grabbed the hated comm-badge I'd been blissfully separated from all summer, and slid it under my pillow, keeping my hand loosely around it. Between that and Spot's soft, sleepy, breathing, I soon fell asleep.

**(=A=)**

_Meeeeeoooowwwwrrrrrrrrr!_ Spot's screech, and the following thud as she leaped from my bed and landed on the floor woke me from a dream that had been surprisingly not-horrible.

My own scream rivaled hers in both pitch and volume, because when I sat up in bed Lore was standing in front of my door.

"Well, Zoe," he mocked. "Didn't figure you for a screamer. All of our other encounters have been so…quietly intense." He pulled a face. "Did I wake you?" His chuckle was low, menacing, and totally stage-y. "Oh, wait, do I care? I don't think I do."

I threw one of my pillows at him. Not the smartest thing to do, I know, but at least it wasn't passive. Also, when it went _through_ him I realized he was a hologram – or some kind of projection, anyway. My other hand was still under the other pillow, still holding the comm-badge. I pressed it with my thumb, but nothing happened.

"Nothing to say to me," holo-Lore asked. "I'm disappointed, little girl."

Anger was starting to replace fear in my sleep-addled brain. "Forgive me for not feeling sorry for you. Is there a point to this late-night social call? Are you really that desperate for attention?"

"Attention? Why, yes… this is about attention. You and my brother haven't been paying any. I gave you a message for him, and it hasn't been delivered yet. Tick-tock, little pigeon. Mad dog's getting closer." He punctuated his last sentence by making a sort of barking, growling sound and gnashing his teeth.

The hologram winked out of existence, and the comm-badge suddenly connected, "Zoe Harris to Lt. Commander Data," I said as loudly and as quickly as I could, while I slid the thing out from under the pillow.

_"This is Data. Zoe, what is wrong?" _

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know you're on duty, but I just woke up to a holographic visit from Lore."

_"I am on my way. Stay where you are, and do not allow anyone in until I arrive." _

"Wasn't planning on it," I said. "I mean, okay."

_"Data out." _

I've never been sure if he ran all the way from the bridge to my mom's quarters, or if he managed to make the turbo-lift move at breakneck speed, or if he used the transporter, but Data was at my door almost before I'd pulled my sweatpants back on under the tank top I'd worn to bed, and dragged my quilt (sans Spot, who was weaving between my ankles) back to the main room.

The annunciator chirped. "Zoe, it is Data. May I enter?"

I released the lock code on the door. "Come in," I called.

He came right to where I was sitting. "Are you unharmed?" he asked, before anything else.

"Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally, the jury's still out. Spot woke up before I did, by the way. Too bad you can't interrogate her."

"I am still uncertain as to how she gained entry to your quarters in the first place. Where did Lore's hologram appear?"

"In my room," I said. "Between the bed and the door."

"What did it say?"

I was momentarily confused by Data's use of the pronoun 'it' in reference to his brother, but then I realized he meant the hologram, not Lore himself. I relayed the conversation as well as I could.

"Do you know when the transmission began?" he asked.

"Um, maybe seven minutes before I comm'd you. I tried a few times during, but it wouldn't go through."

"I am not surprised."

The door chime sounded again, and Data left my side to greet the security detail, led by Lt. Worf. I heard him consult with the latter in voices too low for me to discern what they were saying, and then Worf and the pair of security ensigns whipped out their tricorders, and started scanning everything in my quarters, including my room.

Several minutes later, the three of them returned to the center of the main room. "Sir," Lt. Worf began, addressing Data, "we have scanned the entire cabin. There is no evidence of an intruder, but we did find evidence of an EM spike large enough to account for a holographic signal."

"I expected little else," Data said. "Please send copies of your official report to myself as well as Captain Picard."

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

I waited for several seconds after the trio of security officers had gone before I asked. "Data, is it usual for the head of security to lead details in the middle of the night?"

"As chief of security, protocol dictates that Lt. Worf be notified any time there is an incident requiring a security detail," he informed me matter-of-factly.

I just gave him a _look_.

"It is not entirely _un_usual," he allowed. "As well, it is no longer the 'middle' of the night, but shortly before zero five hundred hours. Lt. Worf was likely awake and well into his 'morning routine' already."

"Oh, okay." I waited a beat. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"We _have _to tell my mother what's going on now, don't we?"

"It will not affect the speed of her return home," he said, "but I believe that informing her of recent events would be 'the right thing to do,' if for no other reason than to prepare her for what she may find."

"You say that like you expect to walk in here some morning and find me all…" I couldn't utter the word 'dead.' "…corpsified."

"That will _not_ happen," he said with more intensity than I thought possible. "I will not allow it," he added.

I reached for his hand, finding comfort in the feeling of his palm pressed against mine. "Okay," I said." Again, I let silence stretch between us, though I was pretty sure I could actually _hear_ him thinking. "What happens now?" I asked, my voice coming out smaller than I'd expected.

"Right now, I would like you to gather a change of clothing, and whatever you need to prepare for your day."

"I'm moving?" I asked.

"Your skin is pale, there is shading beneath your eyes that I believe is referred to as 'dark circles,' and your respiration is uneven," he observed. "You may have been asleep when Lore's latest 'message' arrived, but you clearly require further rest. Unfortunately, I cannot stay here to guard your sleep, as I must have access to the workstation in my quarters."

"Gee, Data, if you want to take me home with you, there are better ways to say it," I joked, forgetting for a moment just who my audience was.

He turned his yellow-eyes on me and deadpanned, "I believe, in that case, the correct question would then be, "Do you wish to 'see my etchings?'"

My laughter was brief and slightly hollow, and I sobered instantly. "You really believe I need to be guarded?"

"I know that you are prone to nightmares, and that a caring presence has been enough to keep them at bay in the past."

I managed not to blush at his implication that he cared about me. "Fifteen minutes," I said. I released his hand, rose from the couch, and went to gather the things I'd need for the morning.

**(=A=)**

How we'd managed to avoid running into people in the corridors, I will never know, but within half an hour I was tucked into Data's bed, though my quilt was on top of his 'fleet-issue bedspread, and he'd already left a message for Mom and Ed, at the B&amp;B where they were staying, and called Counselor Troi to inform her of my whereabouts.

There wouldn't be a response from my mother for hours yet, but the counselor told Data to let me 'sleep myself out.'

"I will be in the main room," he informed me once I was as settled as I was going to get. "Do you require anything before I resume my work?"

"A glass of water, and my padd?" I asked.

He left the bedroom, only to return a few minutes later with both of my requests. I sipped some of the water, then put my glass on the bedside table, an extension of the built-in headboard, really. He held onto my padd, saying, "I realize that you may not want to sleep immediately, but I would caution you against using this device. The use of electronics directly before sleep has been shown to have minor adverse effects."

I knew that, but, "I just want to read a while," I said. "It's distracting. It'll help me get Lore out of my head, and stave off the nightmares." It should have been weird, having a conversation with him while I was in his bed, but somehow it wasn't. Somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the universe. "Reading or music are the only things that ever help."

"Music?" he asked, his face brightening into what I now knew was his 'idea face.' "Would you like me to play for you for a few minutes?"

I wasn't in the mood for violin music, but as long as he was offering… "You sing, don't you? I mean, I've heard you singing phrases of our music to me, but you know actual songs, right?"

"Yes," he said. "Do you have a preference?"

"Anything quiet, and anything that's _not_ Gilbert and Sullivan," I requested.

"May I sit?" he gestured to the end of the bed.

"It's your bed," I pointed out. "I'm just borrowing it for the night."

Gingerly, he perched on the edge of his bed, dimmed the lights throughout his quarters, and began to sing. I didn't know if he could see my expression in the low light, but his choice couldn't have been more perfect, because it was the piece I'd played for _him_ the previous spring: Debussy's _Clair de Lune. _

Smiling, I closed my eyes, and let his warm tenor voice send me toward sleep. I wasn't quite there when he ended his song, but I felt him lift a few strands of my hair and then drop them. "Thank you," I told him. "That was nice."

"You are welcome," he replied. "Goodnight, Zoe."

He got to his feet, and moved away from the bed. "Can you leave the door open?" I asked softly. "At least part-way? I kind of… it's reassuring to know you're _there_."

"If I keep the illumination at this level, will you be able to sleep?" His voice was also pitched lower than usual, or maybe it was the darkness that made it seem so.

"It won't keep you from working?"

"It will not."

"I'm good if you are."

"Then I will do as you ask."

It turned out that the soft glow of the monitors on his console, combined with softly murmured commands and equally quiet keystrokes, was almost as calming and comforting as his singing.

* * *

Notes: "Clair de Lune" by Debussy is one of the pieces Zoe played solo in "Crush," and suggested to Data that they rehearse as a duet. While it's most often heard as an instrumental, it's also a very popular French lullaby. Men rarely sing it, so I've added Natalie Dessay's version to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube playlist linked in my profile. (Revised, 7 November 2016)


	5. Bittersweet

**Bittersweet**

**Stardate 44675.29 **

**(Monday, 4 September 2367, 11:32 hours, ship's time) **

I finally woke up around noon, and when I did, there was this ancient pop song called _Bittersweet Symphony_ that was running circles in my head.

_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down  
You know the one that takes you to the places  
Where all the veins meet, yeah…_

Well, actually, there had been a few moments before noon when I'd woken up just enough to realize that the bathroom door was closed and the sink and sonic shower were being used (not at once, obviously). _Don't think about the naked android behind the door_, I instructed myself, rolling over in the bed and going back to sleep.

When I finally emerged from the cocoon of sheets and quilts and pillows for good, I made a brief stop in the bathroom, and then padded, barefoot, out to the main room of Data's quarters.

My gracious host was seated at his workstation, apparently completely focused on whatever he was doing. I watched him for several minutes, saw him pick up my bracelet, scan it with a medical tricorder, and then a scientific one, heard him make the non-verbal noise he always did when a result was unexpected, and then put it down again, in order to tap commands into the console.

It was at least five minutes before he looked up at me. "Good morning, Zoe. Did you sleep well?"

It was such an utterly ordinary thing to say that for a moment I had no idea how to respond. Finally, I said, "Um, yeah. Actually, I think it's the best rest I've had since…maybe all year?"

His eyes widened. "I can only assume that you are exaggerating."

I shook my head. "Actually, not. I was having nightmares about Lore up through the opening of _Anne_, and then I was wired from performing, and then I was away and keeping a lot of…well, let's just say most of us looked at the curfew as a suggestion rather than an actual rule."

"I am glad you were able to get some 'real rest' then," he said. "If you are hungry, you may use the replicator."

"Would you mind if I showered and changed first?" I asked. "I promise not to freak out about using your shower again."

"If we are going to coexist together until your mother and Professor Benoit have returned to the ship," Data said. "You should know that you are not required to ask permission to use any of the…facilities. However, if you wish to ensure that your privacy is not breeched, I would appreciate it if you informed me."

"I'm sorry, did you just say that I'm staying with you for the rest of the week?"

"Yes."

"No."

"I do not understand your objection," he said.

I stared at him for a long moment, and realized he truly _didn't_ get it. "It's… complicated," I said. "Maybe I should ask Counselor Troi to help me explain."

"We have never needed the intercession of the counselor to work through interpersonal problems before," he pointed out.

"No, the last time we had anything close to a problem it was never resolved at all, because it was also the _first_ time I got tangled up in your brother's games." I said, and then I walked up to his desk, and extended my hand. "Hi, I'm Zoe Harris. I'll be your pawn today." I'm not sure why I said it, but I regretted it immediately. Maybe my mouth really _would_ be the death of me someday. "Oh, god," I said. "I'm sorry."

Anyone else would have been seething with anger, or even exploding with it. Data just looked up at me with a completely blank face. "Perhaps you should shower and change now," the words were uttered in a perfectly neutral tone. "Counselor Troi wishes to see you as soon as you are ready."

I returned to his bedroom and locked the door after it swished closed. I took what must have been the fastest sonic shower in recorded history, threw on jeans and a t-shirt bearing a stylized cello and the Suzuki Institute's logo, and breezed past Data's console and out the door.

If he spoke to me, as I fled, I didn't notice.

**(=A=)**

_But I'm a million different people  
From one day to the next_

Fifteen minutes later, I was in Counselor Troi's office, telling her what happened. "…and then I kind of snapped at him," I said, relaying our brief conversation. "I'm a horrible person."

"No, you're not," she said. "But you have been through an unusually stressful few days."

"Stress? What stress? Doesn't every kid want to spend the wee hours of the morning with half the senior officers of Starfleet's flagship traipsing through her bedroom?"

"Interesting that you describe yourself as a kid."

"Aren't I?"

"You're sixteen. You may not be quite an adult, at least legally, but you're certainly not a child, either. I'd say you're a very scared, very brave young woman, who is dealing with an extremely unusual situation."

"Don't forget funny. I'm all about the funny."

She smiled at me. "Alright. Brave, funny, and scared."

"And stylish," I added. "I mean, really, I own only the best in trendy victim-wear." I gestured to my oh-so-fetching attire.

"Zoe…"

"Sorry," I said. "I'm hungry, I'm punchy, and, yeah…like you said, scared." I hesitated. "Isn't it an oxymoron, being scared _and _brave?"

"Not really. You know the line…'courage isn't the absence of fear…'"

"It's pushing through in spite of it," I paraphrased. "I don't feel like I'm pushing through anything, though. I feel like all I'm doing is giving a lot of people extra work."

"I can see how it might seem that way, but none of this is your fault."

"Isn't it?"

"No. It isn't. But I'm not surprised you blame yourself, at least as much as you blame Data."

"I don't blame Data," I said quickly. "Well, not much."

"Don't you?" she asked pointedly. "Isn't he the person who told you not to be worried about Lore? Isn't he the person who said Lore was unlikely to harm you?"

"Well, yes," I said. "But I'm pretty sure he believed it when he said it."

"But you're still angry with him for being wrong."

"Everyone makes mistakes," I said.

"_Everyone_?" she asked.

Everyone had to include Data, obviously. I responded with a single, somewhat sheepish, syllable: "Oh."

Her carefully neutral expression warmed into a smile. "Do you think you can talk to Data about what you're feeling? It's a pretty safe bet that he honestly _doesn't_ understand."

"Knowing Data," I said, "it's also a pretty safe bet that he blames himself more than I do."

"I'm certain he does," she confirmed. "The two of you are going to need to work pretty closely to figure out what Lore wants and how to remove your little metal accessory."

I grinned at her phrasing, but sobered quickly. "What do you mean the _two_ of us? I'm pretty sure I really _am_ just a pawn in this game. And a carrier pigeon."

"You're also the only one who interacted directly with Lore. That's one of the reasons I want you staying with Data. We all need to know you're somewhere safe until your parents return."

"Parent," I corrected, mostly because I was trying to deflect the next topic. "Singular. The other one's off waiting for his replacement wife to pop out their replacement kid." I could tell she was making a mental note for us to talk about _that_ at some point.

"Alright, until your mother returns, I think it would be best that you stay with Data."

"Counselor Troi," I began in my best pleading voice, "_Deanna_, please don't make me do that. It's all… weird and awkward. _He_ never treats me like a child. Ever. And I'm afraid I'll forget, and cross a line, and he'll know…"

"Know what? That you care for him?" She changed the pitch of her voice, making her next sentence sound more serious. "_You_ know Data would do anything to keep you from further harm, Zoe. Have you considered that he might need you right now, as much as you need him?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"Are you certain of that? Think, Zoe: how many letters and calls did you two exchange while you were away? Who punched their way into your hotel room? Whose brother is doing all of this?" She hesitated, "He was subdued the entire time you were away, except when he'd just heard from you. I believe he _needs_ to protect you, even if he won't admit it. If you're concerned about your reputation…"

I cut her off, "Mine? Oh, that's absurd. People think I'm sleeping with an officer, my cred goes up. Besides, I couldn't care less about my reputation. I care about his."

"Oh?" She seemed both impressed and surprised that I'd even considered that point.

"People talk," I said. "And I've seen the news files and read the stories. I know he had to go through a hearing to prove he was a person. And I know some stupid old admiral tried to take his daughter from him. If the wrong people think there's anything more than casual friendship, they could take him apart. And Counselor… Deanna… our friendship hasn't been casual for… ever."

"I know," she said. I was sitting on the couch in her office, and she'd been sitting in her chair, but she got up, then, and joined me, pulling me into a one-armed embrace. "You and Data have had a connection from the beginning," she said. "We all see it, and we all recognize it as both real and rare, especially for him. No one on this ship is going to question your friendship, and, if it turns into something more someday, we'll all be joyful."

"So what do I do?"

"Well, first," she said. "We go to your quarters, and gather a few more changes of clothes, and your cello. Classes don't begin until after your mother is back, but that doesn't mean you can't resume your music. It will likely help you and Data communicate better with that aspect of your relationship restored."

I nodded my agreement. She had a point. But I also asked, "And then?"

"Data mentioned you hadn't eaten today."

"Counselor…" I said it in the same lightly admonishing tone she'd used on me earlier, letting her know that I meant after we'd returned to music, not after my session with her.

She smiled. "Be his friend. Let him be there for you, as much as he can."

"Why does everyone always qualify that?" I asked, momentarily annoyed, but also honestly curious. "'As much as he can?' As if he's somehow sub-par. When he was watching over me last January, people kept worrying I wasn't getting emotional support, but I never felt like I missing anything. Even my mother, although she assumed he was being paternal…"

"He wasn't?"

I shook my head. "Never. Data's always just… himself. He's solid and reassuring and _present_ in a way that most people never are."

The counselor nodded and smiled, as if her empathic sense of me was supporting my words. "Alright, then. Anything else?"

"Well, I'd kill for a cheeseburger," I admitted.

"Betazoids don't eat meat," she said, "and I've got appointments all afternoon, but I bet Commander Riker could be persuaded to accompany you to Ten-Forward and join in a ritual devouring of grilled animal flesh." It sounded like she was quoting him.

"The first officer of the ship has time to have lunch with a ki – _student_?" She smiled slightly at my self-correction.

"Actually, he does, if it's for the benefit of the ship and her crew."

"I'm not crew."

"No, but you've become an important part of the _Enterprise _family. Besides, wouldn't you love to hear stories about what your mother was like at the Academy?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" I said.

She grinned, and I couldn't help but grin back.

**(=A=)**

"…so, your mother showed up to class wearing love beads and a three-hundred-year old fringed jacket, and made her presentation on 'folk music as a weapon for change," Commander Riker said. "And Professor Harris –"

"Gran?"

"Yes, your grandmother – showed up with a tambourine and fifty cadets playing kazoos."

"Is there video of this?" I asked him as I stabbed a steak fry into a dish of bleu cheese dressing. "And…only one tambourine?"

"According to Professor Harris, more than one tambourine would be overkill."

I grinned. "Yeah, that sounds like something she'd say." I tried to be nonchalant about my next question, paying more attention to dipping a French fry in the pool of ketchup on my plate as I asked, "So, were you and Mom in the same year, or just that class?"

"Same year," he said. "Well, we started in the same year, but she took time off…"

"Because she met Dad and had me," I finished for him. "Right?"

"Exactly." He lowered his voice to a confessional tone and leaned across the table. "Don't tell your mother I told you, but we actually dated for a while during our first year. _Everyone_ wanted to date your mother. Emily Morelli was…" he shook his head and grinned. "Sorry. When she married a musician, we were all happy for her, of course, but surprised. She didn't seem the type to marry outside the 'fleet."

"I remember Mom and Dad being good together for a while," I said. "When I was really little. But Dad was always on tour, and Mom was moving from ship to ship - well, you know - and I was caught in the middle. I always thought I was more like my father; being on the _Enterprise_ has shown me that's not entirely true."

"And now she's dating the captain's boyhood friend," Riker said. "Amazing."

"Ed says they weren't really friends, so much as classmates. I'm never sure if he's downplaying, or if that's really the truth." I shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I just like that Mom's happy."

He peered at me appraisingly, though his blue eyes betrayed his amusement. "Are you sure you're only sixteen?" he teased.

"Seventeen in a little over four months," I said. "I really need to remind Geordi about the flitter lessons he promised for my birthday, so I'll be ready for the licensing exam at Christmas."

"There's a simulator on the holodeck. Tell him to see me for the clearance code, and start you on that," he offered. "We may not be near enough a planet where it's safe to practice for a while, and it won't hurt the ensigns and cadets to have a little civilian competition for best scores." He seemed to roll something over in his mind. "In fact," he said, "if your classmates haven't taken their exams yet, we should set something up for all of you."

"You'd do that?" I asked.

"I would," he said, grinning, "for Emily Morelli's daughter."

"But…"

"What, 'but?'"

"There's always a 'but,'" I said. "And your eyes have a dangerous gleam in them."

"I'd like you to come sit in with our jazz ensemble. I've been doing some checking up on you – I know you play the cello, but I've heard you also study voice with Lt. Caldwell. It's not formal, we just play."

"Counselor Troi put you up to this," I accused. "Anyway, I'm really not a singer."

"One session, Zoe. It'll be fun."

"Okay," I said. "One session."

"Excellent." He grinned, and then looked at my plate. "Are you going to finish your fries?"

I laughed, and pushed my plate toward him. "Help yourself."

He did.

**(=A=)**

Just as I was finishing lunch with Commander Riker, my friend Ray Barnett – Ensign Ray Barnett – approached our table. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "Counselor Troi said to tell you I'm next."

I looked from the younger man to the older one. "Next?" I asked. "Next what? She's lined up babysitters for me all day?" I wasn't sure if I was frustrated, amused, or touched. Probably all three.

"Not babysitters," Will Riker said. "Companions. Mr. Barnett will be escorting you to the holodeck to meet your friends for… what is it, Ensign? Basket weaving?"

"Actually, I think Josh and Dana have a night-surfing program loaded, sir." He looked at me, and coaxed, "C'mon, Zo', you know you want to."

It finally clicked in my head that Data and the counselor had arranged to keep me occupied for several hours, probably to give me time to process and cool off. "When have I ever said no to surfing?" I asked, deciding to accept it all with as much grace as I could muster. "Thanks for lunch, Commander," I said. "And for the stories. I promise not to blackmail my mother with them."

"Just don't let her find out who told you," he teased.

I left the table, and Ray matched his typical long stride to my shorter one as we walked out of Ten-Forward and into the corridor, and then the turbo-lift. "Did they tell you _why_ I'm being handled so carefully?" I asked him.

"Only that you've got a stalker or something, and he made a move on you at Starbase 12. You're okay though, aren't you?"

"Mostly," I said. "I mean… physically I'm fine."

"Fine enough to give a friend a hug?"

"Totally fine enough for that." Our hug was warm, brief, and totally platonic. "So, I don't think I told you," I said, "I surfed Stinson Beach over the summer. I didn't see any sharks, though."

He laughed. "Not seeing sharks is a _good_ thing, Zoe." We entered the holodeck where Dana and Josh had already loaded the program. "But if you want to see some, the aquatics lab has a pair of Artridian grace sharks in one of the big tanks. We're ferrying them to Pacifica, for the captive breeding program there."

"Really?" I said. "I've always wanted to see one of those up close."

"I kinda figured," he said. "Go change," and he pushed me toward the cabanas on the holographic beach. "I want to see what you can do on a long board."

For the next couple of hours, the four of us surfed and swam and splashed, and the physical activity and easy camaraderie seemed to be just the tonic I needed. By the time we all collapsed, water-logged, on the moonlit sand, I was feeling much more like the person I'd been all summer, and less like a pawn or a victim.

I looked around at my two best friends and my sometime surf-buddy and smiled. "Guys, this is the best afternoon I could have imagined. Thank you."

Dana came over and hugged me. "Counselor Troi wasn't specific about what's going on with you, Zoe, but whatever it is, you know you're not alone, right?"

"Yeah," Josh said. "But don't think we're not looking forward to the story…when you can tell it."

I threw a wad of damp sand at him. "Brat," I teased.

He threw more sand back at me, "Wench," he teased back.

But we didn't let things escalate the way we normally would have.

Ray called us back into focus. "The three of you are all starting your junior year of high school, right?" he asked. We confirmed it with nods and smiles. "You want some advice from someone who's a little older, if not necessarily wiser?"

"Is this where you tell us to always pick option 'c' on multiple choice exams?" Josh asked.

Ray grinned. "Well, there's that. But what I was _going_ to say is this: junior year is the make-it-or-break-it-year. You're gonna be taking college boards – or at least prelims. Your classes are going to get intense, grades are going to count like they never have before. Whenever things start getting crazy, come back to this moment. To the three of you, and the friendship you have. Support each other."

I reached out for his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. None of us had expected him to be that serious. "Thanks, Ray."

"I mean it," he said, reaching out to give my hair a brotherly ruffle. "You're going to need each other."

We all murmured words to the effect that we'd do what he said.

"And you," he said looking at me. "I can tell that there are a lot of people watching out for you, and I'm not sure of all the details, but I get the impression it's pretty intense. You need to blow off steam, comm me, and we'll come here and surf it out. Deal?"

I met his eyes, and promised, "Deal."

We hung out for a while longer, and then Josh and Dana excused themselves to go home, and Ray said, "I've got instructions to escort you to Commander Data's quarters. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

I shook my head. "No, we're working on project together, is all, and I agreed to check in with him at regular intervals while my mother's still off-ship." It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely not-true, either. I went to change back into normal clothes, and we ended the surfing program. "I had fun," I said. "Thank you."

"I meant what I said, Zoe. Any time you need to blow off steam… if I'm not on duty."

I hugged him again. "I know you meant it. You are an awesome friend."

"We shouldn't keep Commander Data waiting."

"No, I agreed, "we really shouldn't."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44676.08 **

**(Monday, 4 September 2367, 18:30 hours, ship's time)**

Ray left me in the corridor outside Data's door, giving me a playful shove and reminding, "Comm me. Anytime, for anything."

"I just might hold you to that," I teased. After he'd walked off, I reached for the annunciator button, but the door opened before I could press it, and I stepped inside calling, "Data? Are you home?"

"I am here," came his voice from beyond his workstation. I walked all the way into his quarters, past my cello and the extra bag I'd packed earlier, and around the corner of his desk to find him on his knees peering under the couch. I'd never seen him in any position even close to this undignified, and I couldn't help staring.

_Do not ogle the ass of - perish that thought, _I instructed myself, interrupting my own inner monologue. What I said was, "Did you lose something?"

"In a manner of speaking. I am attempting to convince Spot to come out from underneath the couch."

"Oh." I waited a beat. "Why not just lift the couch?"

"The last time she engaged in this behavior, lifting the couch caused her to dart into the bedroom and lodge herself beneath the bed."

"And even you can't move a bed that's molded into the wall without doing serious damage," I observed.

"That is correct," he agreed.

"If you want to come out of this piss-poor attempt at _downward dog_," I offered, "I might be able to help you out."

I watched him unfold himself, surprised to learn how flexible his spine was not. Finally, he was standing before me, though his uniform was covered in cat hair.

"Tell the maid to vacuum under the furniture next time," I teased, reaching to brush him off. He looked at my hands on his shirt, as if unsure how to react to such a familiar gesture, but he neither objected nor stopped me. "I'm not used to seeing you anything other than completely neat and tidy," I said. "Now that you're cat-hair free, all's right with my world." It wasn't, of course, and we both knew it, but he chose not to object to that, either.

"You said you could help entice Spot to emerge from her hiding place," he reminded.

"And so I can. Sort of. There were two packages that I gave you. Have you opened them?" I didn't think he had, but I wasn't sure.

"I have not. I assumed you wished to witness the process. As well, we have both been distracted by other concerns."

I responded with a look and the request, "Could you get the softer of the two? And unwrap it now?"

He did so, carefully removing the paper wrapping – I wondered if I'd see it on a present for me at Christmas or my birthday – and setting it aside. Then he read the package, "'Organic, single-origin, catnip chews.' Zoe, you wish me to intoxicate my cat."

"No," I said. "I wish you to _bribe_ your cat. Or I'll bribe her if it offends your morality." I held out my hand and he shook a single chew into it. I sunk onto the floor, then, and peered under the couch, where Spot was cowering. "Hey, Catling," I cooed softly. "Got a tasty treat for you."

Unlike Data, I was almost on my belly, instead of my knees. Spot inched closer to the treat in my outstretched hand, until, when she was almost out from under the couch, I pulled my hand away. She slithered into the open, and jumped, landing on my back.

"Ow! Spot!"

I managed to toss the treat onto the couch, and she pounced onto it, smacking her little cat lips enthusiastically. I couldn't help myself: I started laughing.

"Zoe, are you alright?"

I rolled over. "I'm fine, Data, really." I raised my hand toward him. "Help me up?"

His hand enclosed mine, and he tugged slightly, just enough to help me assume a more vertical position. "Mission accomplished," I grinned. "Now you can buy me dinner."

He was staring at me, probably because I, too, was now covered in cat hair. "If you would like to 'freshen up' and change clothing," he suggested, "I will replicate our meal. As you know, there is nowhere on the _Enterprise_ where one can purchase food."

Holographic ocean water was still salty, and between that and the cat hair, I was probably in need of a little freshening. "Sounds like a plan," I said. "Can I ask a favor, though?"

"Of course, Zoe. What is it?"

"I noticed you have actual water fittings as well as sonics in your shower."

"It is a 'perk' allotted to senior officers," he confirmed. "The use of water is rationed, of course."

"Of course," I said. "Any chance you'd be willing to share your ration?"

"If you are asking to take a water-shower, then the answer is 'yes, you may,'" he said, avoiding my unintended double entendre and its possible implications.

"Yes! You are awesome. Thank you!" Impulsively, I kissed his cheek, and again, the stud in my tongue felt hotter. I yelped and backed away.

"Zoe?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, using the time to clear my head. Forcing a bright tone, I said, "Shower first, explanation as soon as I'm done. Do you eat eggplant? I'm kind of craving moussaka." I spun around and left him with his cat, locking the bedroom door once I was on the other side of it.

A water shower had never felt so good, and despite everything else going on, I found myself singing as I shampooed my hair.

_I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah  
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now  
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now_

I'd come home with sheet music for it, arranged as a string duet. I wondered if I could convince Data to play it with me.

I wrapped my damp hair in a towel while I put on fresh clothes – just a clean t-shirt and sweats – then unwrapped the towel and left it hanging in the bathroom. When I returned to the main room, I noticed that Data had set the table for dinner, including lit candles, and that the lights had been lowered.

"Do you have a date?" I asked, eyeing his preparations. His response was a sharp glance in my direction. "Wait, this is for me?" I asked.

"It is for _us,_" he said, pulling my chair out and silently inviting me to sit. "I thought a more subdued atmosphere might help you feel less awkward about temporarily cohabitating with me." My hair brushed against him as I sat down, and he added, "Your hair is damp."

"I didn't bring a hair dryer, and didn't think you'd appreciate me rifling through your things to see if you owned one." He removed thermal covers from the food that was waiting, and I laughed when I realized what it was. "Vegetarian moussaka. Perfect. Please tell me we're splitting a single portion?"

"If that is amenable to you, yes. If not, I can replicate more, however, you have told me before that you would rather 'save the calories' for dessert."

I looked away from him for a long moment. "Yeah, usually. But you're probably not going to let me _have_ dessert after we talk – and we _have _to talk."

He took his place opposite me, and served moussaka and the accompanying salad to both of us. "You saw Counselor Troi." It wasn't a question.

"And had lunch with Commander Riker, and then was delivered to the holodeck for an afternoon of sunless sand and surfing. If you ever decide to leave Starfleet you'd make an awesome event planner, but don't ever become a spy, because your special touch was evident every step of the way."

"It was not meant to be a secret." He ate a bite of moussaka, then continued, stating, "You are angry."

I shook my head. "I'm not, actually. Once I realized what was going on, I thought it was sweet." I took a breath. "Well, I'm not angry at you about _today_. Counselor Troi thinks it's important that I tell you that I _am_ angry with you about…" I gestured first to my mouth and then to the whole room around us. "…everything else."

"You blame me for what Lore has done."

I didn't want to answer, but he was the one person I couldn't lie to, ever. "Yeah. I do. I mean, you told me he wouldn't do anything, that I shouldn't worry that much. You told me that he wouldn't cause me any harm, but he did, and I don't just mean this stupid piercing." I put my fork down. "He's turned me into an accessory. I've lied to my parents. I'm being dishonest with my friends. And yeah, I blame you. But I blame me, too."

"You have done nothing wrong, Zoe." Data said, his voice soft, and intense – well, intense for him.

"Yeah, I have. I put you on a pedestal, and let myself believe you were a superhero, when the truth is you're not. You're amazing, and you have abilities that are uniquely yours… but really, you're just a person." I picked up my fork again, and began to eat. The moussaka was pretty good.

Data seemed to be at a loss for words, though his mouth had quirked up ever-so-slightly when I called him a person. I could tell he was thinking about what I'd said, and determining the best response.

When we'd finished our meal and he'd returned the dishes to the replicator, he didn't extinguish the candles. Instead, he brought them to the coffee table, where his remaining present was already waiting. "Please wait for me on the couch," he said.

"Okay." I said, confusion heavy in my tone.

I heard him order something else from the replicator, but couldn't tell what, and when he joined me, he was carrying a tray with tea and a single slice of chocolate cheesecake and my bracelet. "I would not deprive you of dessert merely for telling me the truth, Zoe."

I was more interested in the bracelet. "You tracked the signal?" I picked it up, smiling softly at the sound of the beads clicking together.

"I did. I also disabled the 'bug' so that it will no longer record or relay any information. I apologize for not returning your bracelet as soon as I had identified and removed the extra bead."

I shrugged. "It's okay. I was kind of awful to you this morning. Was that only this morning? Not having any kind of schedule and living with - well, here – has me discombobulated." I held out my left hand, the bracelet dangling from my fingers. "Help me put it on?"

He fastened it around my wrist, and I felt the slightest of tingles when his fingers brushed my skin. Then he reached for the package I'd brought from San Francisco. "Eat your dessert," he suggested, as he carefully peeled away the wrapping to reveal a white, glass, handle-less mug. "It is a cup."

"It is," I explained, between bites of chocolate cheesecake, "a United States Navy watch mug, with a certificate of authenticity tracing its use to the U.S.S. Enterprise in Earth's Second World War," I explained. "I chose it because the mugs were meant to keep sailor's hands warm when they were standing watch on submarine conning towers or exposed bridges, and that appealed to me. I also thought the clean lines and its origin might appeal to you."

"Thank you, Zoe," he said. "It is a very thoughtful gift."

"I wouldn't actually drink from it if I were you," I said.

"No," he agreed.

I'd finished the cake and the tea - he'd replicated a pot – was done steeping. I pushed down the plunger, pressing the water out of the tea leaves. "Are you having some?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, adding, "Thank you, Zoe," after I'd filled both our cups.

"Are you on duty tonight?" I asked.

"I am not."

"Any specific plans?"

"I have several projects I am working on, including the ongoing attempt to find Lore."

"You have the same entertainment system in here that everyone else does, don't you?"

"Yes." He sipped some of the tea. "Why?"

"I'm not tired enough to sleep, not in the mood to read, and while I probably _should _actually play my cello sometime before my generous, kind, handsome theory tutor and duet partner decides to resume my lessons, tonight is not that night. I need... I need a dose of 'normal.' I was wondering if we could just watch a video. You can even pick it."

I was expecting him to politely decline. Instead, he engaged the system, and I saw a display monitor drop down from the ceiling. "I will trust your judgment," he said.

I chose a neo-noir crime drama with an intricate plot, though we picked it apart as we watched it, and since I had the mystery solved about half-way through, I was fairly certain Data had done so within fifteen minutes, though he didn't reveal it.

As the credits began to roll, I looked over at him. "Data," I said softly, "we have to get the stud out of my tongue sooner rather than later, don't we?"

"It would be advisable," he agreed.

"Lore said _you_ had to be the one to remove it," I said.

"I am aware."

"I'm really scared," I confessed. "I'm afraid of him, and I'm afraid of what we're going to have to do to get this out of my mouth."

"If I were capable of feeling fear, Zoe," he shared, in a voice nearly as small as mine, "I believe I would be 'scared' as well."

I smiled. "That's oddly reassuring. Thanks for the day, and the evening. You are hereby released from entertainment duty; I'm going to bed." He rose first, taking the tea and dessert things to the replicator to be discarded, and I got up and stretched and headed toward the bedroom. I paused at the door, "G'night, Data." I said, "And thank you again."

He surprised me by stepping close to me and brushing stray hair away from my face. "Sleep well, Zoe. If you need to leave the door part-way open again, please do so." He leaned forward and kissed the top of my head, and the metal stud in my tongue warmed as it had twice before.

"I will," I said. I crawled into bed and was asleep almost before he'd dimmed the lights in the main room. As I drifted off, I heard him singing quietly. I loved the sound of his voice so much, I didn't even blush about the fact that he'd heard _me_ singing it in the shower.

_I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now  
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now_

* * *

**Notes: **Song lyrics are from "Bitter Sweet Symphony," which was written by Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Richard Ashcroft, and performed by The Verve. Their version, and the version by the Vitamin String Quartet have been added to the CRUSHING ON CELLO YouTube playlist (see my profile.) Mugs like the one Zoe gave Data are a real thing, and were used in WWII and Korea. For purposes of this story, Will Riker is slightly older than Memory Alpha would have us believe. (Revised, 9 November 2016)


	6. Brooding

**Brooding**

**Stardate 44679.83**

**(Wednesday, 6 September 2367, 03:23 hours, ship's time) **

I woke up in the middle of the night with Lore's voice whispering in my head, and the taste of his kiss on my lips. Oil and acid, I remembered, and sense memory made me feel like I was going to vomit. I raced for the bathroom, not bothering to turn on a light because I knew there would be no stray shoes, or tossed-aside books, or cast-off clothing to step over, on _that _floor.

There was also no way to hide the sound of retching from my… host. Or was he my roommate? My dream-warped brain couldn't pin down a name for what Data was to me in this moment, though I very quickly discarded 'guardian,' but it didn't matter because his shadow fell over me. "Zoe," he asked. "Are you ill? Do you require Dr. Crusher's services?"

"Go away for a minute, please?" I begged, but he surprised me by staying. I was, in turns, annoyed, embarrassed, and grateful because he dropped to his knees beside me and smoothed my hair out of my face, holding it out of the way as I finished heaving into the toilet.

They say it's your real friends who will hold your hair while you puke, but I'd always thought that meant best girlfriends.

After I'd sat back on my own knees, and had been still and silent for over a minute, Data asked, "Are you through?" in the same calm tone he would have used to ask me if I'd like a cup of tea.

"I think so," I said, I changed positions, sitting flat on the floor with my back against the bathroom wall. "You didn't have to come running," I said. "But thanks."

He chose not to respond to that directly, asking only, "May I get you anything?"

It crossed my mind to say no, but Data seemed to appreciate being useful. Or needed. "Something to drink would be good," I said. "Something carbonated. Ginger ale?"

"I will meet you on the couch," he said. "Let me assist you." He extended both hands, reaching to help me to my feet, and I allowed it. Then he left me alone.

I waited until I heard the bedroom door swish closed, and then I used the toilet for a completely different purpose, washed my hands, splashed water on my face, and rinsed my mouth out. After the ginger ale, I'd be able to brush my teeth. Not before.

I hooked a sweatshirt from where I'd left it on the foot of the bed, and pulled it on over the t-shirt and sweats I'd been sleeping in. Then I padded out to the main room of Data's quarters, and curled up in my corner of his couch, tucking my feet under me. "Sorry about that," I said. "I'm not sick, really, it was just a really powerful nightmare."

"This is the second night your sleep has been interrupted in such a fashion," Data pointed out, joining me on the couch, and handing me the glass of ginger ale. There was condensation forming on the outside of the glass, and I looked around for a napkin, but he'd anticipated my need, and was already offering one. "If you cannot tell me what you are dreaming, will you tell the counselor? I do not wish to wake her, but we must address this."

"'We?'" I asked after a sip of the cold, fizzy drink. "They're _my_ dreams."

"That is true," he agreed. "But they are related to the incident with Lore, are they not?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound grouchy, and failing. "Yeah, they are."

"Zoe… I cannot help if you do not talk to me."

And there it was. I needed to talk to him, and I was afraid to at the same time. On the other hand, later that day was the first orientation session for the new school year, and I wanted to be done with dreams and fear before classes started for real on Monday. "Acid," I said softly. "I dreamed he was kissing me and it tasted like acid. Acid and motor oil."

I sensed rather than saw the internal 'click' of information connecting inside his positronic brain. "I do not wish to distress you further," he said, "but when Lore kissed you the first time, do you remember the same… flavor?"

I closed my eyes, and thought about it. Images immediately started playing in my head. Lore holding my hip, Lore holding my chin. Lore kissing me in the tiny hotel room at Starbase 416. I fidgeted on the couch. I didn't want to remember these things, but I could tell Data was so close to a discovery, that I had to.

I felt tears leaking out of my closed eyes.

"The first time," I said. "I don't remember acid. Just the taste of alcohol, but I don't know if it was his or mine."

"And the second?"

I opened my eyes, and met Data's gaze. "Acid. And oil, as I said. Mostly acid." I reached for his hand, and he met mine half-way, clasping my fingers with just enough pressure to be supportive. "When I kissed your cheek… the stud got warm." I said. "Both times. I didn't think… I didn't want to think…"

"Zoe." His tone was firm, but not sharp. "It is… alright," he said.

_No, it isn't_, I protested silently. _It isn't all right. It's all wrong. Because I'm pretty sure we have to kiss to get this thing out of my tongue, and I don't want to ruin our friendship. _

"Is it?" I asked aloud. "Because if you're thinking what I am…"

"Right now," he said, "I am considering several different sealing compounds that could be delivered orally, and I will need to conduct some experiments to determine which are the most likely. Anything beyond that would be premature." His words were calm, rational, based in science.

I was a little jealous of that emotional neutrality.

I wished I could trust that he was right.

I finished the glass of ginger ale. "I should try to sleep some more," I said. "It would be really bad if I fall asleep in orientation today. My math tutor is kind of strict." I slid my hand out of his, and unfolded myself from the couch. But I had to ask, "How do I do it, Data? In class with you tomorrow? How do I sit there and pretend the stud in my tongue is just a stupid teenage thing and has nothing to do with psychotic siblings playing games?"

He rose from his seat and followed me. "Perhaps it is a 'good thing' that you spent a portion of your summer in theatre training," he suggested. "Perhaps you can consider it an acting exercise."

"And if I fail? If I say the wrong thing, or…?"

"Have faith in your own strength and abilities, Zoe. As I do."

Was it a good thing or a bad thing that such a sentiment coming from him seemed perfectly reasonable and normal? I reached to hug him briefly, found solace in the contact, and then slipped into his bedroom, leaving the door open about a quarter of the way. "I'll try," I said, knowing he'd hear me.

_Do _your _kisses taste like acid? _I didn't ask.

But at least there were no more nightmares that night.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44680.59 **

**(Wednesday, 6 September 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time) **

I was in my usual seat in the middle of the conference table, with Dana and Annette flanking me. Josh and a new boy from Akkalla, Rryl, had the seats farthest from me, and Data, as usual, was sitting directly across the table. Except for the change in company, it was the same configuration we'd had for this math tutorial all last school year.

It was the worst possible configuration for me on that day.

You can't exchange confidences with your math tutor in a dimly lit room and then act like nothing has changed when you show up for class. You can't sit across a table and discuss math problems as if nothing has happened, when the man leading the discussion was the same person who held your hair after you puked the night before, and then held you while you cried.

Or at least, _I_ was finding it extremely difficult to do those things.

Data, on the other hand was… Data: apparently unaffected, unflappable, and unfazed.

Sometimes I envied him.

Fortunately, it was just an orientation day, and class was only thirty minutes, instead of the full two hours. Data went over the year's syllabus, ensured we'd all downloaded the textbook he'd selected, and assigned review homework to be completed by our first real class on Monday morning.

It wasn't the longest half-hour of my life, but at the time it felt that way. He dismissed us, and I began to leave with my friends but he called me back.

"Zoe, will you remain for a moment, please?"

I glanced at my friends, "See you at lunch, I guess?"

"We'll meet you at Ten-Forward," Annette promised. "Twelve-fifteen, like always."

"Make sure Rryl knows he's invited?" I said. Inclusion was a very big thing for me, and getting to know the new kid would be easier over lunch.

"We will," she said.

The door closed between us, leaving me alone with Data, who was waiting patiently for me to acknowledge him. "Okay," I said, turning back to him. "What horrible news do you have for me, now?"

"I do not believe my news would qualify as 'horrible.' I have identified several possible compounds that may work to unseal your… piercing. I will require your presence in order to test them."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Does it have to be _now_?"

"As you do not have another morning class, I assumed you would be available. If you are not…"

"I am…" I admitted, cutting him off.

"Then, if you wish to meet your friends for lunch, yes it must be now."

"Okay, so where are we doing this?"

"My laboratory."

I blinked at him. "You have your own laboratory? How did I not know you have a lab? Are you a mad scientist now?"

"I have always been a scientist, Zoe, but I do not believe I am 'mad.'" He waited a beat then asked, "Will you accompany me?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I? Lead me to your lair, Dr. Frankenstein."

We left the conference room together, as he said, "I believe I would be more analogous to Frankenstein's monster than the doctor himself."

"Naah. You're totally the wrong color, and don't have visible bolts at the base of your neck."

"Zoe…"

He led me into a turbolift, and down to one of the engineering decks, then out of it, and down a corridor, where he punched in a passcode faster than I could even watch.

"Just so you know, if any part of this involves me growing a hump, lisping, or calling you 'master,' I'm bailing." I said as the door opened. I looked around at consoles, worktables, and a couple of platforms enclosed in clear tubes large enough to hold a person standing upright. Realization dawned. "This is where you created Lal." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Are you ever going to try to… Fix her? Heal her? I don't even know what word to use…"

"The correct word would be 'repair,'" he said, coming to stand close to me in front of the platform. "I had considered attempting to do so, but I came to believe it would be a dishonor to her memory." I thought about asking what he'd done with her body, but doing so seemed both wrong and morbid. Data surprised me by placing a hand on my shoulder, and turning me to face him. "After Admiral Haftel left the _Enterprise_, the captain authorized a memorial service for her. Her body was placed in a photon torpedo tube and commissioned to the heart of a sun."

"I wasn't going to ask." I said.

"The increase in your pulse rate suggests that you are uncomfortable in this room. I wished to reassure you that you would not stumble across any stray… parts."

"Not so much uncomfortable as nervous, Data," I said. "Or… anxious…I guess. I mean, I know why we're here, and I'm kind of afraid it won't work."

"We will not know unless we try. Please have a seat. I will need to swab the stud in your mouth."

"You're supposed to tell me to open wide and say 'aahh,'" I teased, settling into one of the rolling chairs. "Be warned, I have a really over-active gag reflex."

"I will endeavor to keep that in mind."

An hour or so - and several swabs – later, we'd gotten nowhere. "Data, no offense, but, if you don't give me a break soon, I'm going to die of hunger and boredom and then it won't matter how you get this thing out of my tongue. You want me to come back here and resume lab-rat duties – I'll come without complaint – but I promised to meet my friends, and they're already worried about me."

"I have bridge duty until twenty-hundred hours," he said in response. "Thank you for your help, Zoe. I am sorry it was not more interesting for you, but you are not a lab-rat."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not exactly an active participant, either, Data. Anyway, it wasn't meant as criticism. I know you're doing everything you can, and I also know you're not the entertainment committee, okay? It would be better if you'd explain what you're doing as you're doing it, but when you get involved in something, you go into this quiet zone that's a really odd mix of compelling and eerie. Also, being in this room is kinda creeping me out."

I regretted the last sentence as soon as I uttered it.

"Is it because it reminds you of what I am? I _am_ an android Zoe; that will always be true."

"I know what you are," I said. "Haven't we had this conversation before? It's not what you are that creeps me out. It's… I feel kind of the same way I did when you showed me the inside of your arm, last spring. It's too close. It's too…"

"Intimate?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered sheepishly. "Knowing why you have this space, imagining what the creation of an android looks like. It's sort of like imagining you naked, but… not… but… " I cut myself off, and redirected the conversation. "Listen, do you mind if I go meet my friends now? And can we table the rest of this discussion until later tonight, at home?"

I blushed at my accidental reference to his quarters as home, but if he noticed, he said nothing. "You may go," he agreed.

"Am I supposed to meet you somewhere, or wait for you in my quarters or…?"

"I would prefer that you not be alone if you are in public spaces on the ship, and I do not believe your own quarters are safe as long as your piercing is still installed. Should you wish to return home –" I arched a brow at him and he amended his phrasing, "- to my quarters, the lock is programmed to recognize you."

"Since when?" I asked, and then I remembered a couple of nights before, when I'd returned from surfing and the door opened before he invited me in. "Oh," I said. "Never mind." I got out of the chair, and left the room, pausing at the door. "Hey, Data… will you have dinner with me, when you're off-duty?"

"I would be glad to, Zoe."

**(=A=)**

Lunch turned out to be less 'get to know the new kid,' and more 'grill Zoe on where she's been all week,' but I managed to vague it up enough to satisfy my friends as we laughed through plates of fish tacos and pitchers of iced tea.

"So, the thing is," I explained, "I kind of had a stalker in San Francisco, and it's got me a little freaked out. With my mother still off-ship, Data's been kind of keeping an eye on me. Well, Data and Counselor Troi. It's kind of like being grounded, in a way. I mean, my mother doesn't make me check in as often as Data does." I wasn't being entirely truthful, but I wasn't really lying either."

"Is this normal?" Rryl asked. "For teachers to socialize with students?"

"It's not not-normal," Josh said. "Especially with teachers like Data and the Prof, who volunteer their time."

"Data's more properly 'Lieutenant Commander Data,'" Annette explained. "He's the second officer of the ship."

"Yeah," Dana added, "And Zoe's his favorite."

"Guys, that's not true," I protested. "Rryl, Data's an android. He can't actually _have_ favorites. We do spend a lot of time together, though, because he's also tutoring me in music theory and coaching me in technique."

"Technique," Josh teased, "ooh, Zoe, what kind of _technique_ do you get coached in?"

I was sorely tempted to throw my taco at him, but it was so good to be eating crunchy food, that I gave him my very best glare instead. "Josh, dear, I will remember this the next time you need someone to proof an essay and Dana isn't around. You know perfectly well, he's only coaching me in cello."

"So, is that why you haven't been at home the last few days?" Dana asked. "We went by your place this morning, and no one answered."

"I've kind of had to do a lot of check-ins," I said. "And then Dr. Crusher has been supervising the aftercare for my piercing."

"Piercing?" I'd forgotten that Josh hadn't seen it yet. "What piercing. Zoe, did you get a navel ring?"

"Nope," I said. "Better." I took a swig of iced tea to make sure my mouth was relatively free of grossness, then stuck my tongue out at him.

Rryl also took a look. "On Akkalla," he said, "piercings like that are thought to enhance certain private activities between lovers."

I blushed, suddenly very glad Data was on bridge duty and nowhere near the lounge. "I'd never thought of that," I said. "For humans, it's more a fashion statement than anything else."

"I have this sudden image of the junior-year language and lit class getting assignment to write an essay on the history of body piercing in a chosen culture," Annette said. "I almost wish I was in your year, so I could read the results"

We all laughed, and then I turned to Rryl. "Akkalla's a water-world, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "We do have landmasses, but they are mostly islands, and everyone lives a life connected to the ocean."

Josh and I glanced at each other, and then asked him in tandem, "So, do you surf?"

It turned out that he did.

**(=A=)**

While it was technically true that I wasn't scheduled for any classes that afternoon, I did make it a point to check in with Lt. Caldwell to see when – or if – we were resuming my voice lessons. She wasn't merely willing to continue coaching me, but rather, she was excited about it. We agreed on a schedule and a focus on performance and voice care – how to preserve your singing voice when you were doing multiple performances a week.

"I have a feeling this is stuff you're going to need to know, Zoe," she told me.

"Wow, I spend one summer doing arts camps and suddenly everyone thinks I'm going to be a star," I teased.

"Not a star, necessarily," she said. "But definitely a competent professional, if it's what you want." We were in one of the music rooms on the same 'rec deck' as the smallest holodeck. It, too, was fitted with holographic emitters, but only so that the user of the space could specify the available instruments or technology. That day, it was a piano with a bench, a stool, and, in the corner, a comfortable couch, which is where we were sitting.

"I wish I knew what I wanted," I said. "All my life I thought I was going to just do music, go to the Martian like my father, and make a career as a classical musician. This last year, things have been changing."

"That's very normal, Zoe, even for people as focused as you have been."

"You could have had a career," I pointed out. "You _had_ a successful start as a child performer. What made you give up that life and choose Starfleet instead?"

"I've always loved science, and I've always wanted to be an explorer," she said. "I realized that I didn't want to be one of those touring musicians who only ever sees the insides of hotel rooms between gigs, and…Starfleet also gave me a sense of family." She paused. "The life of a performer is a hard one, Zoe. You're always auditioning for the next thing, competing for every job you get. There's competition out here in space, too, but it's not the same."

"That makes sense, I guess." I said.

"You're not considering applying to the Academy?" Like every other officer, she pronounced it with a capital 'a.'

"What? Me? Perish the thought," I said. "No, I'm…I'm just…gathering information." I got up to leave. "Thanks for the talk, I'll see you Monday afternoon."

She walked me to the door, "Anytime you want to meet, just comm me," she said. "And Zoe…don't you think it's time you used my first name?"

"Sure," I said. "Thanks, Jessie."

Her laughter was musical, of course, bubbling out of her like a pitch-perfect waterfall of sound.

**(=A=)**

I left the studio, unsure of what to do next. Annette was meeting with the head of the ship's school to ensure that she was still on track for graduating in the spring. Josh and Dana _did_ have an afternoon orientation. Rryl was watching his younger sister for a couple of hours, and anyway, I barely knew him. I felt betwixt and between, and a little paranoid. Data had said I shouldn't be alone, but my usual haunts – the aquatics lab, the observation lounge where I used to have music lessons with Seth, the ship's library – weren't at all appealing.

I rounded a curve, stepped into a turbolift, and ran into Guinan. "You look like a young woman with a dilemma," she said.

"More than one," I agreed. "Some more immediate than others."

"Well," she said, "I was about to go back to my cabin to have a cup of tea. I think the company of a person such as yourself might enhance the experience. Would you like to join me?"

_Tea with Guinan? Definitely. _"Yes," I said. "Thank you."

She told the turbolift to resume its journey, and we got out on another part of deck ten, walked a significant way down the corridor, and then stopped at her door. "Welcome, Zoe," she said as we entered.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but Guinan's space felt like stepping into a warm embrace. Candles were glowing everywhere. It crossed my mind to wonder how she got away with leaving them lit, but it didn't seem terribly important. Instead of a couch she had a pair of papa-san chairs, and the doorway to the bedroom was hidden behind a folding screen. "Wow," I said.

"Do you like my home?" the enigmatic older woman asked.

"I had no idea you could make a starship cabin look so… unstarshippy." I said. "It's amazing."

"Thank you. Have a seat." She gestured to one of the two chairs near the window, and I folded myself into one of them. "You look like an herbal tea sort of person. Mint, I think?"

"Am I that obvious, or do you track orders in Ten-Forward?"

"Mint is a stimulant, and you don't like to feel bored or useless. It makes sense."

"I guess."

"I see you still have your piercing." She was prepping cups and boiling water on a hot-pad while she spoke. "Your mother will be home in two days, won't she?"

"I do," I confirmed, "and she will. Data and I spent a good chunk of the morning trying different compounds to unseal it." I could feel her dark eyes on me. "Well, Data was trying different compounds. I was pretty much just his lab-rat. Although… watching him work when he's really focused on a puzzle? That was sort of intense."

"You're good for him," was Guinan's response.

"Am I?" I said. "Sometimes it feels like we have this deep connection that defies time and space, and sometimes it's like I'm just one more task he has to complete."

"No," she said. "You're not a task."

"No," I agreed. "I guess you're right. But I'm not anything else either. I'm just his student." I imbued the word 'student' with all the frustration I felt at the whole situation with Lore, with the thing in my mouth.

"I'm pretty sure Data doesn't think you're 'just' anything. Just like I'm pretty sure you don't see him as 'just' an android."

"He isn't. He never has been. He's… himself."

"Does he know that you love him?"

Trust Guinan to ask me that, point blank. I fumbled for an answer, finally allowing, "I might have a crush on him, but, that's all. Anyway, even that doesn't matter. There's too much in the way. And job-one is getting this out of my tongue."

She shook her head. "No. You definitely love him. Here, drink this."

She pressed a mug into my hands, and I took it, and sipped carefully. "This isn't mint," I said. "I mean…" and I had another sip, "…it's got mint in it. But also… carob, I think. And maybe cocoa?"

"You've got a discerning palate. It's a children's tea, but I think it's important for adults to drink it from time to time."

"It's really good," I said. I waited a beat, watched her settle into the chair opposite mine. "It doesn't matter if I love him or not. Or it won't."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, first, he doesn't have feelings… and second… I'm pretty sure that in order to get this out, we're going to have to cross a line in teacher-student behavior that will ruin everything."

"You mean, you have to kiss."

I stared at her. "How did you know?"

"I know a lot about a few things, and a little about many," was her cryptic response. "I know you don't really believe that Data has no feelings whatsoever. I know, as you do, Zoe, that Data's emotions are subtle, but very much present, if you know how to look. If you take the time to see him, as you have."

"I'm still learning to see him," I said.

"Exactly, you're a student. So is he."

"_Data_ is?"

"The best of us never stop being students," she said. "Data is a student of the human condition."

"Yeah, but there are students and… _students_." I said.

"True enough. But the choice of which one you are is yours."

"Is this supposed to be helping?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"I guess…" I said slowly, putting my thoughts in careful order. "I guess it is. I mean… yeah, I love him. It's not romantic love, exactly. It's… it's like he's family, but soul-deep. And maybe one day, it _could_ be more."

"I suspect it will be."

"Everyone keeps telling me that. Do you all tell him the same thing?"

"I don't know about 'everyone.' I only know about me. I tell him the same thing: that you and he are good for each other, that you and he are connected, and that you both have to learn to trust that connection."

"Does he know… what we really have to do?"

"Do you think he does?"

"I think he's trying to protect me, as much as he can. I think he's as uncertain as I am, about what happens when we…" I made a gesture. I couldn't say the words _when we inevitably kiss_.

"I agree."

I drank more of the tea, becoming more and more certain there was some secret ingredient I wasn't able to identify. It was really good tea, though.

"Guinan, how _do _you know that we have to kiss?" I asked. "I mean… how did you figure it out?"

She canted her head slightly to one side in a gesture reminiscent of the man we'd been discussing. "It wouldn't have been put in your mouth, otherwise," she said.

"I'm afraid of losing my friend," I told her. "I'm afraid it will ruin what we already have, and close the door on… more."

"Don't be. Trust Data. Trust yourself." For a moment, it was as though she were listening to the universe. I'm pretty sure it was speaking to her. "You're going to go through a period of disconnect," she said. "But it won't be complete and it won't be permanent." Her eyes refocused on me. "Drink up," she said. "I have a feeling you've got a very busy evening ahead of you."

I drained the mug. We talked for a few minutes longer, about my summer, mostly, and then she politely shooed me away.

"Thank you for the tea," I said. "And the conversation."

"You're welcome," she said.

I got the feeling she meant it in many more ways than I was capable of even counting.

**(=A=)**

When I returned to Data's quarters, I found a message tag with the reminder that he'd be home at twenty-hundred hours, and a request to feed Spot at eighteen-thirty if I was back by then. I didn't have homework – except math, which I wasn't ready to face – and I was feeling anxious and tired.

What I really needed was a nap.

A nap and a shower.

Crawling into Data's bed when he wasn't there felt a little like taking a liberty I hadn't earned, but since he'd requested that I not go home alone, and since the couch just wasn't that comfortable, I set an alarm, and wrapped myself in the quilt I'd brought with me from my own room.

I didn't have nightmares, but Guinan's advice and Lore's taunts circled in my brain, forming patterns and clues, and when I woke up two hours later to Spot purring near my ear, I was certain of two things: a kiss _was_ what Lore had planned all along, and Spot was _never_ going to leave my hair alone.

**(=A=)**

Showered (with dry hair thanks to the hair dryer I'd found waiting in the bathroom) dressed in fresh jeans and a blouse rather than a t-shirt, I set Data's table for dinner. Nothing fancy: a casserole of zucchini, cashews and a yogurt sauce that was a favorite of my mother's, and had been added to the vast collection of replicator fare available on the _Enterprise. _It was comfort-food, but not kid-food.

I didn't light candles, but I did have the lights slightly dimmed when Data arrived from his shift on the bridge, though I didn't hear him enter because I was curled up on the couch with music playing into headphones as I did my best to escape into a novel – an historical epic that took place partly during the French revolution and partly about three hundred years later, and involved a search for some mystical chess board. I would probably have enjoyed it more if I actually played chess, but the characters were interesting.

His hand on my shoulder shook me from my reading. "Oh," I said, stopping the music and pulling the headphones out of my ears. "Hi, Data. Dinner's ready when you are. It's a family recipe." I set a bookmark to save my place and switched off my padd. "I fed Spot, but I didn't clean her litter box because I wasn't sure where to… put stuff."

"I will take care of it later," he said. "Are you ready to eat?" He seemed oddly stiff, even for him.

"Sure," I said. I stood up and slid my feet into my shoes, but I didn't move toward the table. Instead, I reached out and touched his arm. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You did not." He glanced at my hand on his arm, and I saw him note the presence of my bracelet. "You may be interested to know that a representative of the Keep Earth Human League confirmed that the organization contracted with a third party to set and detonate the bombs at Starbase Twelve," he said.

"Are you supposed to be telling me this?"

"It will be on all the news nets in the next day or so."

"Is Lore the one they hired? Because you have to admit, there's some delicious irony in an android setting a bomb on behalf of an organization that wants to make Earth a humans-only club."

"That part of the investigation is not yet closed."

"Oh." I felt antsy and unsettled. I wondered if he could tell.

"Zoe, you seem agitated this evening. What can I do to help you?"

"A slug of whiskey wouldn't hurt," I said, causing him to look sharply at me. "Or, failing that, any kind of decent vodka. Not the kind that's infused with flavors, though. Those are too weird." I was kidding. Mostly.

"Is there some reason you require an alcoholic beverage?"

"It would be relaxing," I said. "I guess I'm 'agitated' because I know that no matter how many compounds you tested this morning, and no matter how many more you test tonight, there's only one way we're getting this stud out of my mouth."

"That is not certain," he corrected me. "It is possible that I may find another solution. Dr. Crusher could also surgically remove the…" He trailed off in response to the look I was giving him. "That is not my preferred option."

"Data, the stud got warm when I kissed your cheek. It got warm when you kissed the top of my head. Nothing you stuck in my mouth on the end of a cotton swab did anything this morning, and I'm pretty sure at least some of those swabs had more than a trace of your saliva on them – thanks for not telling me, by the way - I know you've probably got a gazillion other things to try, but all the clues are there. I've been going over and over it in my head, and I had a very helpful conversation with Guinan earlier, and she agrees."

"With Guinan?" his expression was both interested and intense.

I nodded, then repeated, "Everything he said, everything he did. He said he had the first and second _taste_. He said to make sure _you_ removed it. He referenced that conversation about intimacy on purpose. And Guinan said he wouldn't have put it where he did if we weren't supposed to…" I trailed off, embarrassed.

"Kiss," he said.

"Yeah."

"I had reached the same conclusion," he admitted.

"When?"

"Approximately seventeen point six seconds after you told me everything that had happened." Only an android would consider time down to the decimal an approximation.

"You might have told me."

"I did not wish to make you uncomfortable."

"Data, there are a _lot_ of things about this whole situation that have made me uncomfortable. Trust me, the thought of kissing you doesn't even make the top fifty."

"I am not entirely certain it will work, Zoe. I _am _certain that there must be another way."

I thought about pushing the issue, but I was sure it would only make things more awkward between us. "Fine," I said. "You're in charge. Can we eat now?"

He seemed taken aback by my sudden change in mood and topic. "That would be acceptable."

We had a tacit understanding that dinner conversation would be restricted to light topics. I told him about my meeting with Lt. Caldwell and our plan for my voice lessons for the next year.

"I have never heard you sing," he observed. "Other than the occasional line or two when you are attempting to tease me."

"Or when I was in the shower the other day," I corrected him.

"Were you not attempting to tease me, then?"

I snorted. "Hardly. I was just relaxed and the song was stuck in my head. And, Data, when I tease you – and it's not 'attempting;' I really _am_ teasing you - there's no doubt of what I'm doing. You don't react every often, though." I took a beat and returned to the original topic. "Anyway, you knew I was taking lessons; I just assumed you weren't interested. Next time you're desperate for entertainment, just ask." I lowered my eyes to my plate, adding softly. "It's only fair; you've sung for me."

"I will do so."

We finished our meal and while he returned the dishes to the replicator I went to brush my teeth and rinse my mouth. He was on the couch when I returned to the main room. "You're not working tonight?"

"I assumed you would prefer to watch something before bed. I will work afterward."

"I don't like that I'm keeping you from your normal schedule."

"You are not," he said. "However, tonight it is my turn to 'pick the movie.'"

I laughed, and went to join him on the couch. "So, what are we seeing tonight?"

He had selected a vintage – mid twentieth century - film called _Casablanca_. "Captain Picard recommended this to me several years ago," he explained. "He said it was something one should watch 'with a friend.'"

We skipped tea that night. Halfway through the story, I stopped paying attention to the actors on the screen and started watching Data, at the way his eyes widened ever so slightly from time to time, and at the way he leaned forward a little bit during key parts of the plot. When it was over, just before midnight, I got up, intending to go to bed, but he was right behind me.

"Zoe," he began, and then stopped.

I turned to face him, and my breath caught as I realized just how close he was standing. _Do your kisses taste like acid?_ I didn't ask. What I said was, "I have to know."

He opened his mouth to say something, probably to ask what I was talking about, and I took advantage of that brief hesitation, put my hands on his shoulders, and kissed him.

I expected him to push me away.

He didn't.

I expected a flood of bitter acid.

It never came. Instead I tasted faint sweetness and a hint of cashew.

There was a split-second delay and then his mouth moved against mine.

I felt his hand go to my waist, felt the gentle pressure that could have pushed or pulled, but instead just rested there, making contact.

There was a burst of heat inside my mouth, and then a sort of click that I felt more than heard. The ball at the bottom of the barbell in my tongue released. I backed away, put my hands to my mouth, and pulled the stud out. Data was staring at me, but not saying anything.

Inexplicably, I started to cry, but I handed him the stud before I completely lost control. "Data, I'm sorry," I said. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry." I pressed his fingers closed around the cylinder of metal.

I heard him call my name, heard him tell me to wait, but all I could think was that I_ had_ to get out of there. I turned on my heel and ran out of his quarters, and toward the closest bank of turbo-lifts. A car arrived just as I did, and I got in, giving the deck number for the aquatics lab.

The cool blue-lit space was empty, save for the various animals in their tanks. I found the bench that had been placed in front of the Artridian grace sharks and collapsed onto it. As the shadowy lace-finned fish swam circles in their glass enclosure, I let my tears fall freely.

* * *

**Notes: **Jessie Caldwell isn't a canon character, but she's mentioned a couple of times in "Crush." My version of Guinan's quarters is based partly on the couple of times we glimpse them on-screen, and partly on my own notion of what her taste might be. Rryl's homeworld, Akkalla is from the TOS novel _Deep Domain_ by Howard Weinstein. Special thanks to Javanyet for help given _months_ ago with a specific part of this chapter. (Revised, 10 November 2016)


	7. Confessions

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

**Confessions**

**Stardate 44682.40 **

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 01:52 hours, ship's time) **

The thing about sharks is, they're perfectly content to let you cry your salty tears outside their tank, but they're not exactly great at giving pep-talks. So when I had cried my tears, I sat for a while and just watched them turning their endless, gentle circles.

Well, I didn't _just_ watch the grace sharks. I also let the conversations I'd had – with Data, with Counselor Troi, and with Guinan – form their own circles inside my head. _Trust yourself_, Guinan had said. _Trust Data. _ Counselor Troi's advice had been much the same. _Data needs you right now, as much as you need him_, she'd told me. On the other hand, she also believed I should just tell him how I felt.

My own thoughts were also turning circles. _Be careful what you wish for, Zoe,_ I said to myself. _You may get it, but you won't get it the way you wanted to. _

Data would come find me if I waited long enough, I knew, but I didn't want to be the girl who has to have some guy come rescue her. It wasn't like we were going to fall into each other's arms, exchange smoochies, and live happily ever after, anyway.

I left the aquatics lab and marched…well, walked purposefully…back to the turbolift and Data's quarters.

His door opened for me, and I stepped inside and nearly ran into him. "Zoe," he said, with more weight in the two syllables of my name than I'd ever heard before. "I was not certain you would return," he added.

"Neither was I," I admitted. "Are you going somewhere?"

"I was on my way to the aquatics lab to find you."

"Oh."

"I believe my next line should be 'we need to talk,'" he said.

"If you're going to tell me that I crossed a line, and that I shouldn't have kissed you when you'd already said you preferred to find another method of removing that stud – never mind that it _worked_ – you should know that I'm sorry if I destroyed our friendship, and I'm sorry I didn't let you do things your way, but I'm not sorry for what I did."

"Zoe –"

But I wasn't done. "Ever since February, ever since Lore kissed me the first time, I've had this _awareness_ of you burning in my brain, but even before that everyone was telling me my friendship with you is real and rare and something special, and that no one would be surprised if it evolved into something deeper someday. I don't know if that's true, or if I just want to believe it is, but I _do_ know that I _hate_ your brother. I _hate_ him for playing games with you, and I _hate_ him for maybe causing the deaths of a lot of people, and I _hate_ him for sticking that thing in my mouth and cheating me – cheating _us_ – out of what should have been a tender and special moment, albeit one far, far in the distant future."

I was crying again before I finished my speech, but it wasn't the same kind of crying that had happened right after we kissed. That had been shock, I think. The tears that came with my…well…rant, really, represented all the pent-up emotions from the last several days finally finding release.

His arms came around me then, with no stiffness at all, and he just held me while I cried myself out, his hands tracing soothing circles on my back until I was calm. I lifted my head and pushed against his embrace, stepping back just far enough to look into his face.

He ducked his head slightly, meeting my eyes. "Are you…feeling better?"

"Never underestimate the cleansing properties of a really good sob-session," I said. "I hadn't planned a meltdown for today."

"Perhaps you were simply due for one," he suggested. "It has been an eventful week for you, and a challenging time for us both. If we are to continue our…friendship…you must learn not to 'bottle up' your feelings."

"Are we?" I asked. "Going to continue our friendship?"

He led me to his couch, waited for me to settle into my corner, and then stepped away to replicate two mugs of tea. "It is chamomile," he said, handing me one of them, and sitting down himself. "You have not destroyed anything."

"Haven't I?"

"You have _not_," he reiterated, putting force behind the words. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized he must have learned to use his voice that way for command situations. "You were not the only participant in that kiss," he said. "I did not stop you."

"I didn't leave you much choice," I countered, wrapping my hands around the mug of steaming liquid.

His eyebrows wrinkled slightly, his head tilted, and his 'teaching' expression took over his face. "Have you forgotten I am an android? I could easily have pushed you away."

I sipped some of the tea using the time to replay everything that had happened. "You kissed me back," I said after I'd swallowed some of the calming brew.

"Yes."

"You put your hand on my waist," I added.

"Yes," he said again.

"Okay, can I just mention that it's really weird when _you_ go all monosyllabic? That's supposed to be _my_ bit."

"Yes," he said a third time, but I saw the corners of his mouth lift up ever-so-slightly. He waited for the hint of a smile to appear on my own face, then continued, completely serious once again, "You began to cry, after you removed the stud. I called your name, and asked you to wait, but you did not."

"I was scared."

"Of me?"

I shifted my mug to one hand and reached for his free hand with the other. It didn't feel any different than any other time I'd touched him. Shouldn't it have? "Never," I said. "I could never be afraid of you. I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me again, afraid you'd send me back to Mom's empty cabin for the next two nights, afraid someone would misinterpret what happened and take you apart, afraid I'd never get another chance to…never mind."

I began to slide my hand away but he recaptured it. "I did not mean to make you cry," he said. "It…I should not have let things continue."

"Why did you?" I asked, staring at our clasped hands. "Didn't you tell me once that you had an ethics program? Shouldn't it have been screaming in some kind of digital distress?"

"I performed a self-diagnostic as soon as you left," he said softly. "It revealed no errors or malfunctions. I can only conclude that a kiss meant as a means to an end was not a breech of my programming, even if removing the data solid from your tongue was only part of your motivation."

"I was…curious," I admitted. "That was a good part of it. I wanted to know if kissing you would be different."

"Because I am an android?"

"You really need to move past your androidy-ness," I teased lightly. "I wanted to know if kissing you was different than kissing – well, being kissed _by_ – Lore."

"Was it?" I couldn't tell if he was asking as a man or as a scientist. Probably it was a bit of both.

"Only in about a thousand ways, none of which I really want to go into…except he's made me into him, in a way. You can't have wanted to –"

He stopped me with a look. "It is possible," he said softly, "that I wished to test your theory. It is also possible," he added, "that I was curious, as well."

I resisted the urge to ask him how many times _he'd_ kissed Lore. "So what happens now? Should I pack my stuff and go home? Do I have to worry that the relationship police will come and kidnap you and turn you into so many bits and pieces?"

"No one will 'take me apart,'" he said. "Please try not to worry about that. As to your sleeping arrangements, I still believe you are better off where I am able to watch over you, if only to render assistance should you have another nightmare. However if you are uncomfortable staying here –"

"I'm not," I said, before he could finish. "I _was_ for the first day, but after that…being here…" I shrugged. "It's been okay."

"Then as you have finished your tea, and as it is now quite late, I believe you should go to bed."

I started to yawn as soon as he said it, and blushed faintly. "I believe you're right," I said, imitating his tone. He released my hand, and I leaned over and kissed his cheek the same way I had days before when things between us had been a lot better defined. "G'night, Data," I said, getting up and heading off to wash up and change before going to sleep.

"Good night, Zoe," came his response through the mostly-closed bedroom door. "Pleasant dreams."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44683.39**

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 10:35 hours, ship's time)**

On a starship, there's never light streaming through the window to tell you that you've seriously overslept. I don't know if I forgot to set an alarm or if Data chose to let me enjoy a night without bad dreams, but when I woke up it was after ten.

Drowsily, and somewhat reluctantly, I dislodged Spot, who had taken to sleeping on the pillow next to my head, and left the bedroom to retrieve pre-shower coffee. I'd expected the place to be empty, for Data to be on duty, but instead he was at his console engaged in deep, quiet conversation with Geordi LaForge.

I couldn't tell what they were saying, entirely, but I heard words like _Lore_, _chip_, and _Terlina_ _III, _and _Maddox. _ "I'm sorry," I said when Data paused the conversation and looked up to greet me. "I didn't know…I mean, I didn't mean to interrupt…I mean..." Geordi was staring at me, and I suddenly realized how my presence in Data's bedroom, in pajamas, must look to him. "I just wanted coffee," I said finally. "It can wait, though," I said, and then, before I turned away, I added, "I'm really sorry."

Their voices overlapped, with Geordi asking incredulously, "Zoe…Data, she's living with you?" while Data assured me that I had not interrupted.

"We did not mean to wake you," the android added. "I hoped you would sleep longer. You did not get to bed until nearly zero four hundred hours."

"It's past ten-thirty," I pointed out. "I'm pretty nocturnal, but I'm not actually a vampire." I turned to address Geordi. "Good morning, Commander LaForge," I said. "I'm guessing from your reaction that you were not in the loop on my current living situation?"

"Understatement of the year," he said, glancing from Data to me and then back. "Data," he said to our host. "Tell me you and Zoe aren't…"

"Living in delicious sin?" I offered. If I wasn't getting coffee, I could at least have a little fun. Couldn't I?

"Something like that," the engineer said.

"Zoe has been staying here as a protective measure," Data said, before I could say anything else. "Her mother is due back on the ship late tomorrow, at which time she will return to her usual quarters."

I could see Geordi taking in that information, rolling it over in his mind, and accepting it. "Okay," he said slowly. "I guess it makes sense, considering. But you have to admit it looks a bit strange."

"I believe that Zoe has kept her presence here reasonably discreet," Data responded to his friend.

"Zoe is standing right here," I sing-songed, because they'd obviously forgotten about me. "And she is desperate for coffee and a bagel. Can I get anything for either of you?"

"Actually, coffee would be great," Geordi said. "If you don't mind company at breakfast? Shouldn't you be in classes?"

"It's orientation week. Ed's off-ship with my mother, and I have nothing else in the morning, although Ms. Phelps did ask to see me before the end of the day. Not that this is at all relevant to either of you." I busied myself replicating two coffees and a pitcher of cream, "Commander LaForge, do you need sugar?" I called out.

"Yes, thanks," he answered. "And since when do you call me anything but 'Geordi?'"

"Since however long ago it was that I walked out here," I said.

"Seven minutes, thirty-three point four seconds," Data supplied helpfully. "Zoe, please ensure that whatever you eat this morning contains at least a few nutritional elements."

"Data, you're starting to sound like her," Geordi observed, chuckling.

Unseen by either of them I rolled my eyes. I also ordered a ham and cheese omelet and a side of hash browns to go with my bagel, and while it was a little awkward at first, Geordi and I settled into pleasant breakfast table conversation, while Data remained at his workstation.

"You're, what, a sophomore this year?" the engineer asked me, while eyeing my bagel.

"Here," I said, giving him half of it. "Bagels were meant to be shared. And no, I'm starting my junior year, which means I'm already getting inundated with college brochures, and we haven't even taken our college boards, yet."

"I know you're _not_ considering the Academy," he teased, "so where are you thinking. I can't imagine anyone from this ship is academically weak…"

"The truth?" I asked, and when he nodded, I told him (between bites of breakfast), "I always thought I was going to audition for The Martian, like Dad, but lately I've been thinking it might be smart to go to a more…academically inclined…institution that still has a good arts program. Mom's parents are both Yale graduates, so I'm considering both of those…Yale has a better drama department though."

"You're not planning to major in music?"

"I might, I might not. I have a long time before I have to decide that, and honestly? I know enough musicians who did nothing else all through their higher education years, and while they play like gods, you can't hold a conversation with them. I don't want to be that…limited."

It was difficult to tell through his visor, but the cant of his head and the pitch of his voice told me the look I'd just received had been an appraising one. "Somehow, Zoe, I doubt that will ever be the case with you."

"I hope not," I said, as I stabbed the last few bites of potato. "I _really_ hope not." Breakfast finished, I got up and returned my plate and mug to the replicator. "I'm going to go change and get out of your way," I said, addressing Data, that time. "See you for dinner?"

"I will be home by twenty-hundred hours," came his response. "Do not forget your comm-badge when you leave."

I flashed him a grin then disappeared into his bedroom, locking the door behind me.

**(=A=)**

"Stick out your tongue," the doctor told me. As she had before, she grabbed the tip with forceps, and examined it with her eyes and with a medical tricorder. "Well, Zoe, you have three choices. If the puncture is bothering you, I can heal this with a dermal regenerator, although it's perfectly fine to let it heal naturally."

"That's two choices," I said. "What's behind door number three?"

"If you want to, you could put a new stud in. One that doesn't contain a secret message."

"You'd do that? Aren't you bound by some parental oath?"

"I'm not your parent," she pointed out. "And it would save you from having to explain how you got it out, but the holes from piercings close quickly; you don't have much time to decide."

I thought about it. "Part of me wants to," I said, "Just to freak Mom out – because annoying your parents is always a really wise basis for a decision, right? If I were to put a new stud in…would it be easily removable. I mean…"

"No wacky android sealants," she promised. "Just normal threaded barbells."

"Do they come in purple?" I asked.

"We can replicate one in any color you want."

"Can it be a little shorter, though? The original…I kept clicking it against my teeth."

"Yes."

I thought about Guinan telling me I wasn't likely to keep the piercing, but I also thought about the fact that I was sixteen, and I was due for a little healthy rebellion. "Do it," I said. "Please."

Doctor Crusher moved toward the replicator and had it create a surgical-grade tongue stud in my preferred color. Less than ten minutes later, I left with new jewelry installed. "Do I need to remind you about paying attention to washing out your mouth for the next several weeks?"

"No," I said. "I know the drill. Thank you."

I was almost out the door, when she stopped me with a final question, "Zoe, how did you get the other one out?"

"You'll have to ask Data," I told her. "I'm not exactly sure what finally worked." It wasn't the truth, exactly, but it wasn't really a lie, either, since I wasn't sure _why _kissing him had released the stud, only that it had.

"I'll do that," she said. "Now, scoot."

Laughing, I dashed out the doors, across the corridor to the turbolift, and down two decks to the school administrator's office, where Ms. Phelps had, apparently, been eagerly awaiting my arrival.

"Welcome back, Zoe," she said. "Did you enjoy your summer break? Have a seat."

"Most of it was amazing," I answered, dropping into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "There were a few bobbly moments, but I survived."

"Obviously," she said, her voice and eyes reflecting warm amusement. "I look forward to your essays describing each experience," she added.

"Is that a requirement?"

"It is if you want credit for the courses."

"I didn't even realize that was an option," I said. "I mean, it was just a couple of summer workshops."

"You won't get credit for a full semester," she explained, "but each workshop will count as an elective. You have until the end of September to finish the essays, and I'll send the guidelines – required word-counts, and the like – to your padd."

"Okay," I said. "Is that all you needed me for?"

"I'm afraid there's more."

"I knew it was too good to be true," I said glumly.

"Oh, it's not as bad as all that," she said. "I just wanted to go over your schedule for the year. I know you're not interested in the Academy, but if you want to go to an academic institution, and not an arts academy, we need to make sure you meet the entrance requirements."

"I have a 3.9 average," I said. "I'm in all advanced placement courses. What requirements could I possibly _not_ be meeting?"

"Actually," she said, glancing at her computer screen. "You're short a science credit, and I think you should consider tracking any dance or athletics that you do, in lieu of an actual physical education class."

"P.E.?" I asked, surprised. "I'm short on P.E.?"

"And science," she reminded me. "I know you surf – and I've seen you in the Pilate's studio – just log your time doing those things, and P.E. is covered. As to science, I'd recommend something that involves lab time."

"I took biology on Centaurus, and chemistry here last year."

"I'd suggest an advanced biology course. If you don't want to try to fit in a scheduled class, perhaps you could create a work-study arrangement in one of the labs. You'd have to get permission from the person in charge of the lab, and the chief of ship's operations; that would be –"

"Commander Data," I said before she could. "I know."

"If you wish me to contact him for you?"

I shook my head, "We see each other almost every day. Remember? I'm in his math tutorial and he's giving me private music theory lessons."

"Ah," she said, "I'd forgotten you were his protégé. Well, then, you know what to do. I'll send the work-study guidelines to your padd as well."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks." I started to get up, but hesitated long enough to ask, "Is that everything?"

"For now," she said, smiling. "Have a great semester, Zoe."

I promised her that I would try.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44684.16**

**(Thursday, 7 September 2367, 17:15 hours, ship's time)**

By the time I returned to Data's quarters, I'd been to the orientation meetings for Vulcan II, and Spanish III, and also had some serious hang-out time with Annette and Dana in the former's living room, where we'd shared our excitement and complaints about the classes we were taking that school year and then made plans to meet for lunch the next day.

I'd also taken a few moments to contact my father, who didn't even notice the piercing in my tongue, and review with him what I'd planned to focus on in voice lessons.

"Make sure Lorna starts teaching you about breath control," he'd advised.

"She's using her middle name now," I said, "Jessie. Not that I blame her; Lorna's a frumpy name, and she's definitely not frumpy."

Laughing, my father agreed, "No, I suppose she's not."

"I should go," I said when we'd also discussed what I should be working on with Data. "Give Gia a hug from me. Can't wait 'til Christmas."

"I love you, Zoetrope," he'd responded. "Talk soon."

Subspace messages were never enough.

It was after five before I realized that I hadn't touched my cello since I'd left the Suzuki Institute, except to transport it home, and that with Saturday Sessions due to resume in two days, I should at least make an effort to sound like I hadn't blown off my instrument for nearly two months.

When I opened the case, the scent of rosin brought me immediately back to the last time I'd played in this room, the last Saturday before I'd left. At the time, I remembered, I hadn't wanted the lesson to end. All of a sudden, I couldn't wait for them to begin.

I lifted my cello out of the velvet-lined case, checked that the strings were intact and the bridge was in the right position – it wasn't unusual for instruments to get knocked around in transit, as much as every musician tried not to let it happen – and peered through the f-holes to make sure the sound post was in its proper place as well. Satisfied that there had been no obvious damage, I went to the closet where Data kept the music stands, set up the room as if it were already Saturday.

I spent the first hour just doing warm-up exercises. Scales, arpeggios, simple songs. I was glad he wasn't there to see that I had to stop and trim my fingernails back to playing length, though I knew he would not have mocked me, just given me the reproachful look that meant he knew I hadn't practiced enough to be worth his time.

Well, I was probably harder on myself then he was likely to be.

When I was bored with warm-ups, I went looking through the pouch of data-solids that were still stowed in my case, casting one after the other aside until I'd found what I was looking for: sheet music for a sort of musical triptych that Hugo Rodriguez had composed as a duet for violin and cello. I made a point of copying the score and sending both the entire work and just the violin part to Data, as well as uploading the latter to his music stand.

Two hours later, after a break to use the bathroom and feed Spot, I was still immersed in the highly technical pieces that blended contemporary and classical styles and rhythms, so much so, in fact, that I barely noticed that Data had come into the room, picked up his violin, and started to play along with me until we finished the last movement.

"An intriguing piece," he observed. "It is not one I am familiar with."

"Hello to you, too," I teased. "You wouldn't have heard of this piece. It's one of Hugo's. He gave copies to the people who attended his master class. I sent you the full score – there's an optional classical guitar part."

"We would need to find another violinist, if you wish to add the guitar part."

"Or another cellist," I said. "Hugo had us all playing each other's instruments all summer. I mean, it's not liked I'd never played a violin before – but, he had us switching parts all the time. It was fun. Challenging, but fun."

"Do you wish to switch instruments now?" he asked.

"Do you mind if we don't? I really hadn't planned to rope you into a rehearsal, I just wanted…no, _needed_…to play."

"But you set up both music stands," he pointed out.

"I _hoped_ you'd come home in time to join me," I confessed, grinning. "It seemed appropriate. I mean, it's my last night usurping your bed, and all. I figured something special was in order, and since the joys of chocolate cheesecake are lost on you…" I trailed off, reacting to his widened eyes and suddenly stiffer posture. "Did I overstep? I really didn't mean to."

"You did not," he said, but his tone was an odd one, even for him. "It would seem I have become…accustomed to your presence here."

Somehow, I managed neither to blush nor to make a snarky comment. "Yeah," I said, feeling my throat get suddenly rough. "I know I balked at being here in the beginning, but…I meant what I said this morning. It's been okay. More than okay, really. It was…easier than I thought it would be." I let that thought hang there for a moment, then forced a lighter tone. "So, should we run through this piece one more time, or are you taking me to dinner?"

"You wish to dine elsewhere?"

I laughed, "I was kidding, mostly. I mean…I feel like my being here has forced you not to spend time with your friends, and as much as I admire your mad replicator skills, I could use a change of scene, but…it's also been nice getting to have quiet meals with you and then help broaden your exposure to pop culture by way of the ship's video library. Going back to seeing you only in class and on Saturdays is going to be a little bit weird."

"Commander Riker's poker game is typically on Sunday nights," Data said.

"Good for Commander Riker?" I replied, puzzled.

"You have not kept me from any social activities, as the last scheduled event was last Sunday's poker game, which was cancelled because we were still investigating the bombings at Starbase Twelve."

"Oh."

"Would you like to have dinner in Ten-Forward, Zoe?"

"With you?" I asked.

"Unless there is someone with whom you would prefer to –"

"No."

"No, you do not wish to go?" He seemed honestly confused.

"No, there isn't someone else who I'd prefer to go with. Not tonight, anyway." I glanced down at the jeans I was wearing. "I should probably change, though. I'm covered in rosin and cat hair."

"I will pack your cello for you while you do so," he said.

I set my cello down on its side and left the room, returning a few minutes later still wearing the same v-neck shirt I'd had on all day, but having paired it with a casual skirt that had surfaced in my suitcase, and the sandals I'd worn to the conference on Sunday morning. I returned to the main room where he was waiting, and I froze.

"We can't do this," I said.

"Zoe?"

"We can't go to dinner in Ten-Forward. Not…not just us. Lunch, sure. But not dinner. Not after…people will think we're on a date."

"Are we not?"

"You _know _we're not."

"We have shared meals in Ten-Forward more than once."

"Yeah, with other people. The only time it's ever been just _us_ is in my quarters, or here."

"I am confused. You are more concerned with what people will think of us sharing a meal in a public space than what may be construed by sharing a meal at home?"

"No one _knows_ if I'm eating at your table when I'm here," I pointed out. "And you heard what Geordi said this morning. He's your best friend, and he thought we were…that our relationship was…"

"Inappropriate."

"Yeah," I said, collapsing onto the couch. "Counselor Troi says I worry too much about it, but…" I took a breath. "I spent a good chunk of my childhood with my father, going on tour with him. He stopped taking me when school became something that mattered, but it wasn't _just_ because I needed to be in one place for school. Part of the reason I got dumped with Gran is because I got old enough to figure out that he was sleeping with my tutors or my aux pairs. The last one…the last one was in his bed _hours_ before Mom got home on leave. My father wrote the book on inappropriate, and do you know what my response was? I went to a bonfire on the beach and got wasted."

"I did not know." He joined me on the couch, but his posture remained rigid.

"There was no reason you should've."

"You seem to have a pleasant relationship with your father, now."

"Appearances can be deceiving," I said. "And I'm pretty good at blocking out the things I don't want to deal with, and making jokes about the rest."

"The human capacity for emotional self-defense is most intriguing," Data said. "I often marvel at the resilience you display."

"Yeah, we're talented that way."

"No, Zoe, I mean you, specifically."

"Me?" I shook my head. "I'm really pretty ordinary, Data. Most of the time I'm completely confused, trying desperately to keep up, and hoping nobody notices how unprepared I really am."

"Would it surprise you to know that your description applies to myself as well?"

I refrained from pointing out that he was anything but ordinary. "You? You can't be serious. No, wait, don't say it."

He didn't remind me that he was always serious. Instead he said, "You are aware that I have no emotions, that I never quite 'fit in.' It is only since being posted to the _Enterprise_ that I have even managed to form friendships."

Somehow, hearing that in his matter-of-fact inflection made it more poignant. "I…didn't know," I said, echoing his earlier statement in meaning, if not in exact phrasing.

"There is no reason that you should have," he stated.

"Is there a point buried under there somewhere?" I asked. "Because I'm starving, and wherever we – or I – eat tonight, I'd really like it to be soon."

"That is evident from your mood," he said. "You once told me that if we were friends, there had to be trust, did you not?"

"Yes," I said.

"Then, will you trust me when I tell you that there is nothing inappropriate about two friends having dinner in Ten-Forward?"

"But…"

"Must I remind you again that androids do not lie?" he added, staring pointedly at me.

"Okay, fine," I said. "You win."

"Thank you, Zoe." He stood and moved toward the door, and I followed. "On the way, you may explain to me why you chose to install a new tongue stud."

I laughed, and looped my arm through his. "Actually, there are three reasons. One is that I decided it was kind of cool. Edgy, even. The other is that it's a tangible reminder not to be quite so reckless."

"That is only two reasons," he pointed out as we entered the turbolift.

"Well, the third reason is kind of immature."

"Oh?"

"It will _really_ annoy my mother."

He may not have had actual emotions. He certainly couldn't laugh. But the look on his face? Priceless.

**(=A=)**

Ten-Forward was pleasantly busy when we arrived, with Commander Riker's jazz combo playing in one corner, and people dancing nearby. "Maybe we should rethink this," I suggested, but Data ignored me, guiding me to a table far enough away from the music so that we could actually have a conversation.

Guinan appeared almost as soon as we were seated, and smiled knowingly at me. "I knew you weren't going to keep the original piercing," she said.

I couldn't help but laugh. "I thought you meant I wasn't going to keep a piercing at all."

"I know," she said. She took our order – one serving of an eggplant and water chestnut casserole I really loved, and an extra empty plate – and disappeared again, but not without adding the instruction, "Data, after you eat, make sure you dance with Zoe. She needs a little fun."

"I really don't need to dance," I protested after she left.

"I do not mind," he responded.

"Not minding isn't the same as wanting to," I pointed out. "And anyway, I don't even know _how_ to dance."

"There are several kinds of dance listed on your theatrical resume."

"Why, exactly, did I ever let you see that?"

He refrained from answering while the server was delivering our food, but as soon as the waiter had gone, he said, "You let me see it because I asked."

"And if I'd said no, you'd have asked Dr. Crusher for a copy."

"That is…quite probable," he agreed.

"Alright, look, I have experience with ballet, tap, jazz, and hip-hop. I took hula lessons for two weeks. I know how to ice skate, but when it comes to social dancing? I'm pretty much limited to the kind of rhythmic gyration popular at clubs…not…not ballroom, or anything similar. Well, except waltzing, but any idiot can do _that_."

"Then I will teach you," he said.

"There's no way I'm getting out of this, is there?"

"No."

"Someday, when you least expect it," I said in my best nonchalant tone, "I will exact a personal and very painful revenge. It will be a revenge so complete that it will serve as a catalyst to deep, unending fear."

"Threatening a line officer is not a wise course of action, Ms. Harris."

"Neither is torturing your friends, Commander Data."

He managed to get me onto the dance floor, led me through a few basic steps, and soon figured out I hadn't been exactly honest about not knowing that type of dancing. I'd danced at my father's wedding, after all, but I wasn't _good _at it by any means, and it's a fortunate thing android feet are immune to fumble-footed teenagers.

After a few songs, I needed a drink, and a break, and we returned to our table. "Okay," I admitted between sips of water. "I might have enjoyed that. But next time, I get to choose our activity."

"I will hold you to that," he agreed.

We left shortly afterward, and even though it wasn't even midnight, the emotional pre-dinner conversation combined with the dancing meant I was more than ready for sleep. I excused myself to go to bed the second we entered his quarters.

"You do not wish to have tea?" he asked, apparently puzzled. Well, it was our usual ritual.

"I do," I said, "but I wish to be functional at a reasonable hour _more_. Thank you for tonight."

"You are welcome, Zoe," he said. "Good night."

"Good night, Data." I let the door swish most of the way shut, leaving it open only a crack that time, zipped through my nighttime bathroom routine, and curled up in the bed.

An hour later, I sat straight up, not because I'd had a nightmare, but because I realized I'd inadvertently asked him out. He'd know it wasn't a date, wouldn't he? _Wouldn't he? _ I forced myself to lie down, and did some of T'vek's meditation techniques to help find that pleasantly muzzy, sleep zone again. _Of course he'd know. _

* * *

**NOTES: **Hugo Rodriguez is the fictional cellist of the equally fictional Tantalus Quartet, and was one of Zoe's instructors during her time at the Suzuki Institute (see _Hello from Earth…_). Hugo's "musical triptych" is actually a piece in three movements, "Three Semblances," by Gabriel Gutierrez Arellano. It's been recorded by Duo Parnas (two string-playing sisters) on their album NOW which celebrates contemporary (at the time of release) composers. A version that includes guitar has been added to the Crushing on Cello playlist (see my profile). Sorry for the long delay in this chapter – life's been…busy.


	8. Clarification

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

**Clarification**

**Stardate 44693.44**

**(Monday, 11 September 2367, 02:36 hours, ship's time)**

_"Someday, when you least expect it," I said in my best nonchalant tone, "I will exact a personal and very painful revenge. It will be a revenge so complete that it will serve as a catalyst to deep, unending fear." _

_"Threatening a line officer is not a wise course of action, Ms. Harris." _

_"Neither is torturing your friends, Commander Data." _

_"But it's so much fun," he replied, the faint smile on his face twisting into a leer. We were on the dance floor in Ten-Forward, and we were dancing but the people around us were distorted, and their mouths, I realized, weren't moving in conversation or laughter, but represented their screams. _

_"What did you say?" I asked looking into his eyes. His features, too, changed, but the changes were subtle: the set of his jaw was more belligerent. The warmth in his eyes had turned to cold. Pale, faint, light as from a dying moon, not the comforting glow of sunlight I was accustomed to. _

_"I said, 'but it is so much fun,'" he said. Except he hadn't. Except his tone was flatter, and the innocent note in his voice was fake. "And it __**is**__, my little pigeon. It's __**so**__ much fun to needle the people you love. To know exactly where to prick the skin, exactly how hard to press before you pull back and let them figure out why they're bleeding."_

_The spinning sensation grew faster, the screams merged with the music – weird calliope music – the faces twisted and morphed into the pictures I'd seen on the news nets…the pictures of explosive decompression victims. _

_His hand held my waist. His other hand skated up my body, grazing my breast, tangling in my hair. Our mouths met. I tasted acid. I tasted the faint sweetness that I now knew was Data's…flavor. I tasted acid again, and recoiled. No, give me back the sweetness, my mind pleaded. _

_"He finally tasted you, didn't he," that voice – Lore's voice – whispered in my ear. "No…no, you tasted him. Oh, pigeon, maybe you're not such a little girl after all."_

_We spun. And people screamed. And there were sirens. _

_Klaxons. _

_"Wake up, little pigeon. Ship's going down…" _

_"What?" _

_Klaxons. _

_Klaxons!_

_**Klaxons!**_

_I sat up in bed, screaming. Red warning lights bathed everything, flashing on and off. There was smoke that I tasted rather than smelled. _

"Zoe, sweetie, wake up. Kiddo, come on. You're dreaming, and you need to wake up." My mother's voice jarred me into wakefulness.

"Mom?" I asked, confused. "Were there alert sounds just now?"

"Not a one, hon," she said, smiling at her own rhyme. "You were having another nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not really. It was more of the same. Data. Lore. People screaming as they fell victim to explosive decompression."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Tea usually helps. Mint or chamomile. A tiny bit of honey."

"Usually?"

I blushed faintly. "Data always made me tea when I had a bad dream," I explained. "Although once we got Lore's message stud out, I didn't have any more." I saw her expression change from concern to slight confusion and added quickly, "Nightmares, not tea. I had plenty more tea." I paused a moment to muse. "I don't know if he made it because he knows I like it, or if someone once told him that you should offer a hot beverage to someone in distress."

Chuckling, my mother suggested, "Perhaps it's a bit of both?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Alright then, I'll get you some tea, and if you decide you want to tell me about your dream, I'll listen."

"Thanks Mom."

She left my room, and I checked the time – just after two-thirty, and I had class in a few hours. Data's class, in fact. That wasn't going to be awkward at _all. _

When she returned, I was sitting up in bed. I took the mug from her, and wrapped my hands around it. "Sit with me a minute?" I invited, moving to make room.

"Sure, kiddo." She took up a perch on the edge of my bed. "What's up?"

"How come you weren't angry?"

"What do you mean?"

"You came home to find me basically living with my math tutor…the same man you _wouldn't_ let me go on an overnight shuttle trip with to see the Tantalus play last spring. So, why was that not okay, but me staying in his quarters didn't seem to faze you?" I peered closely at her, and asked, mostly joking, "Who are you, and what did you do with my mother?"

She laughed. "Oh, Zoe. I _was_ angry, at first, but then I realized that being with him really was the safest place for you. Also…while you were away all summer, I made more of an effort to get to know Data off-duty." She hesitated, before adding, "I was _angrier_ with him for not telling me Lore had been contacting you this summer, but when he explained his reasons for not telling me, I understood. I didn't quite agree, but I understood."

"I wanted to tell you," I said. "But he thought it would be better not to. He didn't want you to worry over something you couldn't fix."

"Yes, he explained that."

"I was afraid if you knew, you'd make me come back here."

"I might've," she admitted.

"So can I keep the tongue piercing?" I asked, abruptly changing the subject. "I mean, we got Lore's out, of course, but this one, the one Dr. Crusher put in for me…can I keep it?"

"I don't know, _can _you?" she asked pointedly.

Rolling my eyes, I restated my question, "_May_ I keep the tongue piercing?"

"For a while, I suppose," she agreed. "It might remind you to be less reckless in the future."

"That was part of why I did it."

"And it will really annoy your father," she added.

"MOM!" I laughed. "I'd hoped it would annoy you," I added, after a beat.

"Drink your tea, daughter-of-mine, and go back to sleep. You have school in the morning."

"Okay," I said.

"We can talk about your dream at breakfast, if you want."

"Okay," I said again.

"I love you, kiddo."

"Okay," I said a third time, then grinned. "I love you too, Mom."

She left, and I sunk back against the pillows slightly. I sipped some of the tea but it didn't taste as good as it did when I was sitting on Data's couch, so I put the mug aside and turned off the lights.

I didn't dream again that night.

**(=A=)**

I was not the most attentive student in class that morning. Data began by reminding us about some kind of advanced placement test that would be significant when we began looking at universities, and then he launched into options for the rest of the year, and the year following. I should have been watching him. I should have been having my padd record his lecture. I should have at least made an effort to listen.

Instead, I was thinking about how it had felt when we'd kissed, and how much I wanted a proper kiss, not some chaste meeting of mouths meant as a means to an end, and how I'd inadvertently asked him out.

His words kept running through my head. _"It is also possible that I was curious, as well." _What did that even mean? And when was I ever going to be able to find out? _"I performed a self-diagnostic as soon as you left. There were no errors or malfunctions."_

My head felt like it was swimming, and only after Dana, sitting next to me, elbowed me in the ribs, did I realize Data had moved on to the review portion of the class, and had asked me to solve a problem, which was displayed on all our padds.

"Sorry," I said. I did the math, and shared my answer.

"Correct," Data said. "Though your solution was not the most elegant. Can anyone improve on Zoe's methodology?"

Looking at the problem again, I saw what he meant, and blushed hotly, because if I hadn't been distracted, I'd have seen the better solution in the first place.

Rryl was the first of my classmates to raise his hand, offering the method I _should_ have used.

"Very good," Data told him. He assigned another problem and picked Josh to give the answer that time.

Noon finally arrived, by which time my focus had improved, though I was still hyper-aware of Data, of the way he moved, spoke…_Stop it, _I ordered myself. _You have to stop this. _

"Lunch in Ten-Forward?" Annette asked as we all moved toward the door.

"Definitely," Josh said. "I'm starving."

"You are _always _'starving,'" Rryl observed.

"He's only been here a few weeks and he already knows your reputation as a human trash-can, Josh," I teased. "Hold the 'lift for me? I need to ask Data a question."

"Don't take too long," Dana said, linking her arm through Josh's. "Or he might die of hunger."

We all laughed, and then my friends were gone and Data was looking at me expectantly. "You have a question, Zoe?" he asked. "If it is about the homework assignment –"

"It's not," I cut in, "but it is school-related. Ms. Phelps told me last week that I'm short a lab science, and suggested that a work-study arrangement might interest me more than joining one of the classes. I talked with Lt. Nguyen in the aquatics lab, and she said that she'd be willing to put me to work, but no matter what I do, it has to go through you."

"I was not aware you were interested in marine biology."

"You know I love the ocean. Is it so surprising I'd be interested in what lives in it?"

"It is not," he said, "that your interest is surprising. It is more that I had not realized how little we speak of things other than music."

"Well, music or Lore, these days. It's kind of funny…Geordi suggested months ago that I should talk to you about all the things I'm interested in, but I haven't because…well…for a lot of reasons, but my friends are waiting. Will you approve my work-study?"

"Ask Lt. Nguyen to send me an official request, and copy it to Ms. Phelps, and I will approve it," he said.

"Okay, I'll do that. Thanks, Data."

"One moment?" he requested.

I was getting antsy. "Um, okay?"

"You seemed uncomfortable in class today. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Show up to class with a bag over your head and wearing sackcloth," I snarked, and then immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. I had another nightmare early this morning, and I'm unsettled and off-kilter, and…I can't even talk about it with my mother." He was about to say something else, and I put up my hand to stop him. "Don't tell me to talk to the counselor. I've already got a standing appointment with her for Thursday."

"I was going to suggest that you could talk to _me_," he said.

"I'll think about it. Meanwhile…I don't want to ask for special treatment, but being in class with you, after the last week, after…everything…is kind of weird, so please be patient if I'm 'uncomfortable?'"

"Of course, Zoe."

"Thanks," I said. "I have to go."

My friends were still holding the turbolift when I got there. "Everything okay?" Dana asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm short a lab science, and Ms. Phelps suggested a work-study thing is all."

"About time you started taking advantage of the opportunities available on this fine starship," Josh teased.

"What?"

"You're actually the only one of us who isn't doing some kind of work-study or independent study course for something," Annette explained.

"Oh." I felt silly. "Actually that's not true. I have Saturday morning music theory with Data."

"Does that mean you're unavailable from ten to noon every week?" Dana asked.

"Nope. Ten to one. We're adding an extra hour to work on technique. I have been released from lessons with Seth."

"Good," Annette said. "I never liked him."

"Yeah, me neither," Josh put in as the 'lift doors opened again on deck ten. "You know, Tev used to ask Wes and me to meet you after lessons when he couldn't. And after he left, Data mentioned it, too."

"I knew about Tev," I said, as we walked into the lounge. Guinan caught my eye and we shared a look. "I actually used to ask him to meet me and be very visible," I added.

"Who is Seth?" Rryl asked. "And Tev?"

"Oh, sorry," I said. "Seth is Lt. Starker. He used to be my cello teacher, here on the ship. And Tev is T'vek Mairaj."

"Zoe's boyfriend," Josh put in, in a teasing tone. "They were hot and heavy."

"_Ex_-boyfriend," I corrected. "His parents were transferred to the _Berlin_ last February. Oh! But I saw him over the summer. He had an architecture thing on Earth, and we managed to meet up for a weekend. Let's grab the table by the viewport."

As we walked through the room, we passed Jenna D'Sora, the security lieutenant whom Data had been dating when I'd first started theory lessons the year before, sitting with a group of her friends. We'd gotten off to a rocky start, but even though she was the adult, I'd been the one to apologize and start over. She and Data had ended their relationship soon after, for reasons I wasn't privy to, but she still played the clarinet, which meant that – as fellow musicians - from time to time our paths crossed.

I smiled at her as we walked by her table. She wasn't one of the officers any of us would have considered interrupting – not like Reg or Geordi – but she was usually okay, so when she returned my smile with a glare, I was really confused.

"Geez, Zoe, friend of yours?" Josh asked softly, having caught the woman's expression.

We settled into seats around the table, giving Rryl the new-guy privilege of the best seat, the one where you could see out, but also people-watch. "That officer did not appear to like you," the Akkallan boy observed.

"That was a stink-eye, if I've ever seen one," Annette confirmed.

"I honestly have no idea what that was about," I said. "I mean, I kind of know her, but as far as I know, I haven't done anything to piss _anyone_ off lately. I couldn't even get a rise out of my mother when she saw my piercing, the other day."

"Maybe she's jealous of your new jewelry," Dana teased.

"Yes," I said, playing along. "That must be it. Not everyone has the style and confidence to pull off a mouth full of metal."

We all laughed, and then one of the waiters came to take our orders, and we spent the rest of the meal getting to know Rryl, who, it turned out, had a father in the science division and a mother in operations, did love to surf, and would be in our Language and Literature class with Ed this term.

Not long before we were done, Annette excused herself to use the restroom. When she came back, her expression was troubled. "Zoe, I need to ask you something," she said, "could you step away for a moment?"

"Um, sure," I said. I had no idea what she needed to ask me that couldn't be said in front of the rest of our friends, but I got up and walked with her to an empty table a little bit away from ours. "What's up?"

"I'm not sure how to ask this," she said softly, "but Zoe…someone stopped me in the corridor and asked if I was friends with 'the girl who's dating Commander Data.' Is there…is there something going on?"

"What? Annette, no, of course there isn't."

"Well, I didn't think so, but they said you two were in here last week, and that you were dancing with him."

I blushed. "That part's technically true," I said. "I mean, yes, we came here for dinner last Thursday, and Commander Riker's jazz combo was playing and we danced – well, he danced, I mostly stepped on his feet – but it wasn't anything like…It was definitely _not_ a date."

"If you were dancing with him, how was it not a date?" she asked, and I could tell she was sincere about the question.

"Because it wasn't," I said. "Because…" I sighed. "I can't tell you. We were working on a project and I was a little stir crazy. Data and I are _friends_. I mean, really, he's an officer, and I'm a student and underage. People can think what they like about me, but him? They should know better."

"You're right," she said, "They should. Well, whatever is going on with you, I hope you'll tell us soon, Zoe. We're your friends and we love you, but it feels like you're shutting us out of something...something really big."

"I know," I said. "I kind of am, but I swear it's not by choice. I hate secrets. They fester into really horrible situations, and kill friendships."

She slung her arm around me in a quick, friendly hug, then let go. "Okay," she said. "Let's go have dessert. I _need_ some chocolate today."

"Oh, sister," I said, "who doesn't?"

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44703.13**

**(14 September 2367, 15:30 hours, ship's time)**

By Thursday afternoon, I wasn't sure if there were more people asking me about Data, or if I'd just become more aware of it, but I'd nearly blown off Wednesday's math class because of it, opting at the last minute to show up, do exactly what was required of me (no more, no less), and then beat a hasty retreat.

I managed not to drift off into daydreams, at least.

Quartet rehearsals were on hold for another week, as Dr. Crusher had invited anyone interested to come watch scenes from the people who'd been participating in her latest acting workshop. Lt. Barclay, I knew, had been part of it, because I'd run into him on the way to the aquatics lab the day before, and he'd mentioned hearing that I'd been in acting class all summer.

"Yes," I'd told him. "Well, half the summer. The other half was all music, all the time. I'm a veritable font of artsy-fartsyness now."

He'd grinned his goofy grin at me and stammered through an admission that he, too, had been taking lessons. "From Dr. Crusher," he'd explained. "Bev-Beverly is a good teacher. Very patient. Very kind."

"She can be," I said. "My teachers weren't quite so nice. I called Dat – home. I called _home_ in tears more than once. But they say pain is character building, so…there's that. Lt. Nguyen is waiting for me."

"You're doing an internship in aquatics?" he asked, and the switch to science seemed to relax him a little. "That seems like something you'd enjoy."

"Well, I didn't get to see sharks in San Francisco Bay, so I had to do something to be allowed to play with the pair we have on board."

"Not seeing sharks when you're surfing is a good thing, Zoe," he'd said.

"So people keep telling me," I teased. "Gotta go." And I'd dashed off down the corridor.

But that was Wednesday, and on Thursday I was sitting in Counselor Troi's office fiddling with an iced raspberry mocha, and trying to be as open and honest as possible when what I really wanted to do was throw ceramic objects at walls.

"I feel like everyone's looking at me differently," I said. "Like they all wonder if Data and I are sleeping together, and that's ridiculous, because of so many reasons."

"Yes," she said, "it is. But it's also normal for people to speculate. Your father is a celebrity, Zoe. Haven't you had experiences with people talking about his love-life?"

"Well, yeah, all the time, but in his case half of it was true, and the other half was about people I didn't know. It's very different when you see the object of speculation across the table from you in math class three times a week, or when you're supposed to be working on music theory together."

"I'm sure it is."

"Does it bother Data? All the whispering?"

"Data would say that it 'cannot bother him,'" she said, trying to imitate his tone. (Personally, I thought my impression was much better.)

"We both know that's not true, and yes, I know, this is supposed to be about me, not him, but…I don't know…I was hoping that at least I wouldn't be in it alone."

"You're not," she said. "He doesn't hear as much because he _is_ a line officer, but he's heard enough."

"Enough to understand why after a week basically living with him, I'm suddenly playing avoidance games?"

"You're avoiding him?"

"As much as I can without blowin – skipping class."

"Is it helping?"

"Not really," I set the glass down on the side table. "Usually, he'd be the person I'd want to talk to about it, but I feel like…the more time I spend with him the harder it is not to want more…Class on Monday was excruciating, by the way, and _not_ because people were talking."

"Oh, why?"

"Because…because…did he tell you how we got Lore's stud out of my mouth?"

"You know I can't reveal –"

I rolled my eyes, "_I_ have to know how much _you_ know, so I know what I have to tell and what I don't. And, yes, I _know_, Ed would kill me for constructing a sentence like that."

She chuckled softly, but sobered almost immediately. "Data explained that you shared a kiss which released the stud."

"Did he tell you I initiated it, after he essentially told me we weren't going to try it?"

"He did."

"Did he also tell you he didn't stop me?"

"Zoe…"

"Counselor – Deanna – he didn't stop me. He kissed me back. And, okay, as kisses go it was relatively chaste, but I can't help it. I keep thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him properly and sitting in class my thoughts got all spirally…"

"And you were uncomfortable."

"So, he mentioned that."

"Only out of concern for you."

"My behavior must confuse him more than his confuses me."

"What do you mean?"

"Before _that_ kiss, we'd – I'd – we've always been physically affectionate. Not inappropriately. The occasional hug. And, you know, he was holding my hand a lot during that meeting the other week. But it was mostly me, treating him the same way I treat the guys in Dad's orchestra who are also family friends. Casual hugs. Kisses on the cheek. People in the arts tend to be more demonstrative than Starfleet types…it's our culture…"

She smiled. "That's true, and that you include Data in it isn't unnoticed by him."

"I've noticed I'm one of the only people who touches him. You know, casual touches in social situations."

"That's very perceptive."

"You spend six weeks with Lachlan Meade cursing at you in a Scottish brogue, you'd become pretty perceptive, too."

She laughed again, but all she said was, "Go on…"

"He touched my hair, in the hotel room. After he broke open the door. And when I was in his quarters, before I went to bed one night, he did it again, and kissed my forehead." I hesitated. "I don't know if it means anything, or if he's just repeating actions he thinks are appropriate."

"Did you ask him?"

"How, exactly, would I do that?"

"By doing it, but it may be premature."

"So what do I do? How do I deal? Do we move my lessons to one of the practice rooms on the rec deck? Do I make a point of not being anywhere near him outside of class?" And then I remembered, "Oh, god, I accidentally asked him out."

"What do you mean?"

"After our thing-that-was-absolutely-not-a-date last week, I told him that even though I hadn't wanted to dance, I'd had fun, but that I got to choose our next activity."

"And Data said…?"

"He agreed to my terms."

"So, what is your next activity?"

"Excuse me?"

"I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him. You both know the truth of your friendship. If it's meant to be something more, it will happen. If it's not, you still both have a very special friendship. Broadening your knowledge of each other's interests, spending time doing things that aren't strictly related to music, these will only help both of your explorations of what you are to each other."

She hesitated for a beat, then continued, "Zoe, I feel I should remind you: the fact that Data _is_ an android means that he both cannot and will not allow things to progress further than they should, but it also means he may not realize it if your feelings are hurt. Even as 'just' friends, you're going to have to be open with him in ways you wouldn't have to be at a similar stage in any other relationship."

"Yeah, I've learned that already. But about the rest…do you mean…it's okay…to…not-date him? I shouldn't feel like it's wrong or inappropriate if we spend time together?"

"If you're both enjoying the experience, I don't see why not. As well, the more people see you and Data together, no matter what direction your relationship takes, the less they'll talk."

"Oh, I get it," I said. "Don't give the story anywhere to go."

"Exactly," she said. "If they ask if you were the young woman dancing with him…"

"I say, 'yes, and I'm so sorry I wasn't a better partner for him.'"

She laughed, "Exactly."

"Okay," I said. "I can do that."

"Good," she said. "Now, let's talk about your nightmares."

"Can we table that? I think…I think maybe the most recent ones were because of the way my friendship with Data seems to be shifting…not a lot…but…"

"But it is changing, which it should, as you're growing older."

"Guinan said something like that, too. She also said…she said the best people never stop being students, and that in his own way, Data was a student, too."

"That's an excellent way to look at things, but don't tell Guinan I said that. She might be after my job."

I laughed with her that time. "Thanks, Counselor – Deanna. Talking to you is always helpful."

"I'm glad," she said. "Now drink that before I have to, and I shouldn't because I already had one." I followed her gaze to my glass, picked it up again, and drank the sweet, chocolaty beverage while we chatted in a less clinical tone about my school schedule and my internship/work-study/whatever thing in the aquatics lab.

**(=A=)**

I didn't go to the ship's auditorium with Data, even though I thought about asking him if he wanted company. Instead, I went with Josh and Dana, and Rryl, whose father was known for his storytelling skills and had joined the workshop as soon as they'd come aboard.

We ended up sitting in the same row as Data, with an empty seat between us and the senior officers. I couldn't help but smirk at Data's reaction – Lt. Barclay was supremely awful – but getting up on stage the first few times can be difficult, and even more so when the audience was comprised of people you work and live with every day. I knew that from my own experience.

When the performances were finally over, the doctor announced that auditions for the next production – _Romeo and Juliet_ \- would begin the next evening, and she encouraged everyone in the audience to consider a role. If I felt like she'd pinned me and Josh with her gaze when she said it, I was pretty sure I was just imagining it.

As we left the room, Rryl caught up with his father, and Josh and Dana went off to have some time together before her curfew. I was surprised to find Data waiting for me in the corridor.

"Your friends seem to have abandoned you," he observed, in the tone that was as close to teasing as he ever got.

"So they have," I said. "I plan to make them feel very guilty about it tomorrow. Were you waiting for Lt. Barclay? I think Counselor Troi is still with him."

"I was waiting for you."

"If this is about me still being unsettled in class…" I began, but he cut me off.

"It is not. I had thought to invite you to accompany me here tonight, but you have been…"

"Avoiding you?"

"Apparently."

"Yeah, I kind of was. _Am_. And the hallway really isn't the place to explain why."

"No, it is not," he agreed. Then, seemingly randomly, he added, "Spot misses you."

I raised my eyebrows in amused disbelief. "_Spot_ does?"

"Yes, I believe so. She becomes agitated at your typical bedtime, and stares fixedly at your place on the couch."

"I…see?"

"Perhaps you could accompany me to my quarters for a cup of tea, and to assure her that you have not left the ship?"

I'd never seen him this awkward before. Not with me, anyway. "I need to clear it with my mother. But if she doesn't object, and you have time before your shift, maybe I could hang out with you and Spot long enough to watch a vid?"

"I believe we would both find that acceptable. However, I reserve the right to veto your selection."

"Just because I wanted to watch _Hellraiser_…" I grinned. We started walking toward the turbolift, and I asked, "So, do you think Lt. Barclay would improve any with _twelve_ weeks of lessons?"

"I would not 'get my hopes up.'"

We ended up watching a twentieth century classic: _Dead Poet's Society_, which left me with the distinct impression that Data would be addressing Picard as, 'O Captain, my captain,' at his earliest opportunity, but between cuddling Spot and watching the video, I never did get around to explaining why I'd been avoidy-girl all week. Somehow, sitting on his couch with the cat and a bowl of popcorn, it didn't seem to matter.

* * *

**Notes: **So much for my plan of a chapter every four-five days! This one got away from me, but since the last chapter, I've acquired a new computer and gone on a home improvement shopping spree. Astute readers will notice that we've exited the space between episodes. The end of this chapter coincides with the teaser from "The Nth Degree." Oh, and Red? Your request has been noted and logged. P.S. Some of you may remember that I adopted a puppy last June, because three dogs of my own just wasn't enough. Piper wasn't thriving at first, but now, at almost a year old, she's a hale and hearty 35-pound border collie mix, who loves to scrap with her adopted brothers, and gives the best puppy kisses ever.


	9. ConseQuences

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

**ConseQuences**

**Stardate 44714.44**

**(Monday, 18 September 2367, 18:30 hours, ship's time)**

"I'm just saying it was like he was a whole different person," I told my mother as I set the table for dinner several days after Lt. Barclay's theatrical debut. "I mean, on Friday, he pretty much sucked, and then Saturday he was phenomenal. Dr. Crusher told us in her casting memo that the only reason he didn't get Romeo is that he's too old."

"So who did get Romeo? Josh?"

"Actually no. He got Mercutio, and I think he's happy about that. Besides, if he had been cast as Romeo we'd have had to kiss, and that would be weird."

"Isn't it part of the job though, to take whomever you're cast with in stride, and just do the job?" my mother asked in her I'm-making-a-point voice.

"Well, yes. Which is why I'm totally not going to protest playing Juliet opposite Ensign Lovejoy."

"Lovejoy…Not _Ethan_ Lovejoy? The one they all call 'Ensign Loverboy?'"

"That's the one. But Mom, really, it's just theater, it's not like I'm going to date him. Actually," and I made my tone somewhat lofty, "I've decided I'm not dating anyone this semester."

Her brow arch told me she didn't believe me. "Really?" she asked. "Does that mean you're cancelling 'vid night' with Data?"

I sat down at the table as she collected our meal from the replicator. "Hanging out with Data is more like teaching a class in Pop Culture 101 than anything even close to dating, which, by the way, we are not." Lofty had been replaced by testy.

"Easy, kiddo," my mother said. "I'm just teasing you."

"I know, Mom," I said. "I'm sorry. It's just…people are talking and it's starting to get to me a little." I took a few bites of salad, giving myself time to cool off. "So, are you involved in the Cytherian project?" Asking her about work was never a bad way to distract her.

"I am," she said. "It's fascinating getting to exchange information this way. Their culture considers the arts as important as the sciences, and believes even the most functional of tools should still have an element of beauty."

"Data said we might have one or two of them visiting - well, a holographic projection of them, anyway – in class on Wednesday. I hope he doesn't decide to give us a pop quiz. His class is challenging enough for me without having an audience. Is there anything I should know about Cytherian etiquette?"

She chewed and swallowed the bite of food she'd just taken, then answered, "Not really. Be polite. If you should happen to be sarcastic, don't be surprised if they respond to that with questions about meaning and usage."

"Sarcasm isn't a thing for them?"

"So far, they seem to appreciate irony, but your kind of snark…"

"So, don't be quippy, is what you're saying?"

"If I answer 'yes' are you going to take it as a challenge to see just how quippy you can be?"

"Probably not," I answered. "But only because there are limited opportunities for snark in any math class, and doing so with Data seems really wrong…especially considering…everything."

"Hmm." My mother peered at me over the glass of wine she was sipping. "Why is that not reassuring?"

I gave her my best innocent grin. "I don't know, Mom. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Hmm," she said again. The rest of dinner was eaten in silence.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44727.22**

**(Saturday, 23 September 2367, 10:30 hours, ship's time)**

I was half an hour late to meet Data for my Saturday session, not because I'd overslept, or because I was avoiding him (that time), but because there were other people in the turbo-lift and I hadn't wanted them to know where I was going. Sure, Counselor Troi had told me to trust the truth of my friendship with him, but that was a lot easier when I didn't hear my name being whispered in public spaces, and when I wasn't getting nasty looks from his ex-girlfriend.

Not that any of that was Data's fault.

Not that any of it was _anyone's_ fault, really.

It was just one more thing I would have preferred not to deal with.

"You are late," was his greeting when I stepped into his quarters. A year ago, that observation would have been offered with flat neutrality. Now? There were notes of concern in his voice. "Is everything o-kay?"

His use of the casual term made me smile in spite of myself. "Sorry," I said. "There were…do you think maybe we should move my lesson back to the conference room, or maybe use one of the practice rooms on the rec-deck?"

"I was under the impression you had come to prefer working here," he said, confusion layered over the concern in his tone. "However, if you would prefer an alternate location, we can move next week's lesson."

"I do like working here," I said, adding the confession, "These quarters – _your_ quarters – feel almost as much like home to me as Mom's do. I just…" I hesitated, and recalled the counselor's other advice, that I would have to be open with him in ways I never would with anyone else. "People are talking. Whispering, really. In Ten-Forward. In the halls. It's not a lot of people, and I'm probably being hyper-sensitive, but, the general consensus is that people think our relationship is more than it is, and I'm embarrassed, and there were people in the turbo-lift and they were staring at me, and I rode down to deck fourteen and over to the aft lift-bank, and then back up to this deck and walked back because I didn't want anyone to know I was coming here."

Spelled out, it seemed ridiculous, and for once I was glad that he wouldn't – _couldn't_ – laugh at me.

"I am sorry that you are troubled by ship's gossip," he said. "I have heard similar suppositions."

"And they don't bother you?"

He had the sense not to tell me he couldn't be bothered. "I have been the subject of gossip many times before," he said softly. "I do not comprehend the purpose of it, and I would prefer it not occur, but, in the words of a very wise woman, 'people will think what they think.'"

"That sounds like something Guinan would say."

His eyebrows lifted, almost as if I'd impressed him in some way. "It was."

"How did you deal with it, other times?"

"At first, I would confront people and attempt to explain that I was not, in fact, a 'walking data-padd' or a 'talking encyclopedia.'"

"Oh, I bet _that_ went over well."

"Gossip, and my initial reaction to it, are part of what made my time at Starfleet Academy somewhat…challenging."

"Only part?"

"Practical jokes were also a negative factor."

"I never realized you were picked on."

"It is a humanoid trait, to 'pick on' those who are perceived to be weak."

"You were bullied." It wasn't a question. "I have a hard time believing anyone ever perceived you as weak, though. A little naïve at times, maybe. Mild-mannered or soft-spoken, sure. But weak?" I flashed him a wry smile, 'That doesn't compute." He didn't answer, but even though I had a million more questions, I quelled my curiosity. "So, I'm getting later and later for my lesson. It's a good thing my tutor doesn't hand out demerits."

"Are you ready to begin?"

"Yes," I said, unzipping my gig bag and taking out my cello and bow. "Music-ize me, please?"

We spent the rest of our scheduled time working alternately on theory and technique, using the duet Hugo had written as a basis for both.

As I was packing up to leave, Data offered, "If the 'whispers' you are hearing are troubling you, I can speak with whomever-"

"No," I said, cutting him off. "That would only make things worse. I talked to Counselor Troi about it, actually."

"Was her advice helpful?"

"Yes and no."

"Please elaborate?"

"She said I needed to let you know what was going on," he nodded, and I continued, "and she said to ignore it."

"Ah."

"Exactly."

"Would you prefer that we discontinue extracurricular social interaction?" he asked after a beat.

"Is that what _you_ want?" I countered.

"It would not be my first choice," he answered. "However, I have no feelings to be bruised by being the subject of gossip, and I do not wish to be the cause – however ancillary – of your distress."

"Actually," I said, leaning on my packed cello, "Counselor Troi said we should be _more_ visible."

"Ah," he said again. Two 'ahs' in one conversation was impressive. I wondered if there would be a gold star involved if I got him to say it a third time. "I believe I understand her reasoning. If people see us together, interacting as friends, they will realize the true nature of our relationship, and conjecture will die off."

"Something like that, yeah." I wasn't sure if I should mention that one of the people doing the conjecturing was (apparently) his ex.

"Then, we must endeavor to do as the counselor suggested. Have you selected an activity for our next outing?"

I couldn't help the blush that colored my cheeks. "I haven't," I said. "I was…I was sort of kidding about that, you know? I didn't think you really wanted to-"

"Spend time with a friend?" he finished for me. "I will expect a suggestion from you before you return to quarters after rehearsal tonight."

His tone was so matter-of-fact that I couldn't help it. I offered him a salute and a flippant, "Aye, sir," before I hoisted my cello and left.

There were a couple of officers walking down the hall in the opposite direction from me, and I saw them notice whose quarters I'd just left, but since I knew that we'd really only had a music lesson, I tried to ignore them.

I was almost successful.

**(=A=)**

"What's the least romantic activity two people can do on this ship?" I asked Keiko when I stopped by the ship's arboretum later that day. I'd promised to care for the catnip she'd let me plant, and dropping in on Saturday afternoons had become a habit.

"Laundry?" she suggested, only half-serious.

"Okay," I amended, "what's the least romantic thing two people who aren't married, dating, or otherwise privy to each other's laundering needs can do on this ship?"

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "The _Enterprise_ is hosting a big archaeological conference next week. What could be less romantic than a bunch of lectures about ancient artifacts?"

"You're not serious?"

"About the lectures? Yes, I am," she said. "Look, I appreciate history, and I know it's important to make it come alive, but the Antiquities Board seems to go out of their way to make it stay dead. Miles and I went to the last conference because they were focusing on Celtic mythology, and it was…let me put it this way, Zoe, I bought a new pair of sunglasses every morning just so I could sleep better in the sessions."

"Wow," I said, "that sounds…really horrible. It's perfect. But…why a different pair every day?"

"They validated parking if you bought something," she said with a grin. Turning her focus on the patch of catnip she said, "I know this was meant as a gift for Spot, but it's growing so well; do you mind if I share it with a few other cat-owners on the ship?"

"Not at all," I said. "Actually, unless you've told him, even Data doesn't know it exists. He's been trying to conserve the bag of organic catnip chews I brought back from Earth."

"That sounds like him," she said. "You're under watering that far corner, by the way…let's tweak the sprinkler pattern." She pulled a padd out of her coveralls, and we tested the sprinklers for my corner of the 'garden' until she was satisfied with the spray pattern. "Better," she pronounced. "Much better."

"Thank you," I said.

Her response was a merry laugh. "I should be thanking you," she said. "I like having company in here, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty."

"Well, this is…Gran would call it 'clean dirt,'" I said. "You know, it's soil, not…filth."

"Clean dirt," she repeated. "I suppose that's true." She paused, and then walked over to one of the benches placed around the space. "Sit with me a minute, Zoe."

Her suddenly serious tone made me worry what she was going to say, but I went and joined her on the bench. "What is it?" I asked.

"I've heard some people talking about you and Data. I know the two of you have a special friendship, but…I heard someone say you were living with him. That can't be right, can it?"

"It _was_," I said. "But not in the way people think it does. I don't know how much Data tells you or Miles, but…you know his brother Lore?"

She nodded. "I've heard he's not the nicest person."

"Sick and twisted don't begin to describe him," I affirmed. "I ran into him on a starbase last February, after I'd yelled at Data for something stupid that only my teenaged brain could conjure up, and since then he's been sort of stalking me. There was another encounter on my way home from Earth, and since my mother was off-ship, I stayed in Data's quarters for a few days."

"That must have been awkward for you," she mused.

"A little, at first, and then…not so much," I said. "Probably it was worse for him."

"I doubt that," she countered. "Data seems comfortable with you in a way he isn't with anyone else."

"People keep saying that," I said, rolling my eyes. "I think they see what they want to see."

"Maybe," she said. "If you ever need to talk, Zoe…Data's my friend, but you are too, okay?"

"Sure," I said. "Thank you." I got up to go, but paused as I was leaving, and looked back at her. "Hey, Keiko? If Professor Benoit happens to ask, could you let him know my mother's favorite flowers are Vendarian chrysanthemums?"

She laughed. "I'll make sure he knows. See you later, Zoe."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44741.90**

**(Thursday, 28 September 2367, 19:02 hours, ship's time)**

By the time the _Enterprise _had arrived at Tagus III, I was beginning to regret having picked the opening night of the archaeology conference as my next non-date with Data. On the one hand, as Keiko had said, it wasn't at all romantic, which was good. _Wasn't it_? On the other hand, Captain Picard was the keynote speaker and, as I'd learned just that morning, my mother was also presenting at the conference.

I mean, there's not-dating and there's not-dating with your _mother_.

In any case, at about seven in the evening we'd settled into our seats near the back of the conference room that had been set up as a lecture hall, and I was already re-thinking the wisdom of my plan. We weren't sharing a dining table or dancing, or anything else remotely couple-ish, but sitting there, next to Data, I felt incredibly aware of him.

Fortunately my mother was only a couple of seats away, sitting with Ed. He hadn't actually proposed while they were away, but his arm was draped over the back of her chair, around her shoulders, and her body was angled slightly toward his. As potential stepfathers went, he wasn't a bad candidate, I mused.

Data nudged me slightly and I realized I'd been daydreaming. I recovered quickly enough to join the polite applause heralding Captain Picard's arrival at the podium.

"Are you alright?" Data asked very softly, under the applause.

"Fine," I said. "Just…thinking…"

He seemed to accept that, but before the captain's speech began, Data asked, "I was not certain if your suggestion of this activity extended to the reception, afterward."

"I didn't know there was one," I admitted.

"There is," he said. "Attendance is not required, but as your mother is one of the presenters, if you would like to go I would be happy to extend our evening and continue to serve as your escort."

I turned my head to meet his eyes. "You _have_ to go, don't you?" I asked.

"It was…strongly recommended."

"And I wouldn't….it wouldn't look bad if you bring a student?"

"You are sixteen, not six," he countered, using one of my own lines against me. I was beginning to hate it when he did that. "And your attire is appropriate for the venue."

I glanced down at my outfit, and blushed faintly. I hadn't dressed up, not really, but I had made an effort to look a little more sophisticated than my typical jeans, t-shirts, and boots would imply, with a sweater and skirt, and real shoes. "Sure," I said. "Why not?"

"Do not worry, Zoe," he added in a faintly teasing tone. "There will not be dancing."

The captain began speaking then, and I settled in for an evening of boring speeches, only to see some weird flashes of blue light, and notice that – apparently magically - the captain and several of his senior officers were suddenly sporting crazy costumes. "Data what's going – oh, my god -" I couldn't help but stare, because my friend was holding a giant drumstick - turkey, I think – in his upraised hand, and his uniform had been replaced by brown robes. "I would kill for a camera right now."

He glanced down at himself, then back up at me, surprise evident on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but then there was another flash of light, and he was gone. They were ALL gone.

The people remaining in the room broke into a chaotic chorus of exclamations and suppositions, and in the center of it all was my mother, who was suddenly the ranking officer on the scene.

Striding to the podium, Mom called out, "Everyone, take your seats, please. We'll let you know what's going on shortly; in the meantime, please remain calm."

She waited for the pandemonium to settle, then tapped her comm-badge to open a channel. "Lt. Commander Harris to bridge." She waited for an acknowledgment before she continued, "Captain Picard, and most of the senior officers have just…vanished…from the conference room. Can you scan for them?"

Over the tinny speaker of my mother's comm-badge I heard the response come through, _"Ensign Anaya here. Initiating scan." _There was a pause, and then the voice of the woman on the bridge returned. _"Commander Harris? The captain is not on the ship. Neither are Commander Riker, Lt. Commanders Data and LaForge, Lieutenant Worf, Dr. Crusher, or Counselor Troi." _

"Who has the bridge right now?" my mother asked.

"_Lieutenant Dean here," _came a different voice. _"I'm the senior bridge officer at the moment. I'm sending a security detail to the conference room, Commander." _

"Good idea," my mother said. "I'll try to maintain order until they arrive, then I'll come to the bridge."

The security officers arrived a few minutes later, and my friend Ray Barnett was one of the two ensigns in the group, which was good. What was less good was that the head of the detail was Lt. D'Sora. _Jenna_, my brain corrected. _No,_ I decided, watching her arrive, walking purposefully, jaw set, eyes scanning the crowd, _definitely Lieutenant D'Sora. _

The blonde woman either didn't notice me in the room, or didn't care, because she went directly to my mother. "Commander Harris," she said. "Lieutenant, D'Sora, security. What happened?"

I had resumed my seat, but was near enough to my mother that I heard every word either of them said. Mom related the same thing I'd seen – flashes of blue light, wardrobe changes, and then mass disappearance.

Jenna asked her if she had seen anything else suspicious.

Mom explained that she'd really been more focused on her notes, but that she hadn't noticed anything strange. "Everything was normal," she said, "until it wasn't." It was phrasing that wouldn't have been unusual coming from my mouth. Clearly I was – _I am _– my mother's daughter.

"We're going to canvass the rest of the people in the room," D'Sora said. "Barnett, Costa, go to it. Commander Harris, is there anything else you can think of that might help?"

"There isn't," my mother said. "My daughter was sitting with Commander Data; you might start with her."

"Daughter?" the security officer turned.

"I think you know her," Mom said, maintaining a completely neutral tone. She glanced toward where I was sitting in the chair next to the one Data had…vacated. "Zoe, join us, please?"

I left my chair and joined them at the podium. "Mom?" I said.

"Lieutenant D'Sora has a few questions for you."

"I doubt I saw anything you didn't," I said, "but, sure, okay." I turned to Jenna. "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me everything you saw," she said. "From the moment you walked into the room. Your mother said you were sitting near Data?"

"I was sitting _with_ Data," I corrected. "We came together. We were chatting up until Captain Picard took the podium, and then for a few seconds after. The captain started his speech, got maybe five or ten words out, and then there were flashes of light. First, the senior officers were wearing hats – well, Data wasn't – but he was holding a turkey leg –"

"A…turkey leg?"

"Yeah, you know, like the food at a Renaissance Faire?"

"Data doesn't eat."

"Actually, he does," I said, surprised that she didn't already know, "when he wants to be social; he just doesn't _have_ to. But I don't think he had any intention of eating it. First his hand was empty, and then it wasn't, and then he was dressed like a monk."

"A monk?"

"A medieval monk," I elaborated. "Almost as though he'd been ripped out of a Shakespeare play. His hair was even different."

"His hair?"

"Yeah, he had a bald spot, and a monk's haircut, and then there was another blue flash, and then he was gone."

"He didn't say anything?"

"It all happened pretty quickly. He seemed like he was about to say something."

"But you don't know what?"

"Not a clue," I said. "Oh! There is something else…"

"What?"

"There was a woman in the front row…dark hair, business suit…she vanished, too."

D'Sora's eyes narrowed, as if she didn't believe me, but her features smoothed into professional neutrality almost immediately after. "Do you know who the woman was?"

"I don't," I said. "I think she may have been talking with the captain before he went to the podium, but I wasn't really paying attention, because Data was asking me if I was joining him at the reception later tonight."

Her eyebrows lifted in either surprise or disbelief. "Data invited you to a formal event? Dressed like that?"

I couldn't help it; I rolled my eyes at her. "First, it's not a formal event, just drinks and chatter. Second, he said my attire was 'appropriate for the venue,' and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have said that if it wasn't true. If I'd known there was a reception when I invited him to this conference –"

She cut me off again. "You invited Data? So you knew he would be here?"

"Well, yeah, but since the captain was the keynote speaker and people from this ship were among the presenters, it wasn't like he wouldn't have been here anyway."

"So, you knew the entire senior staff would be here. Did you have anything to do with their disappearance?"

"What?" I asked. "Are you crazy?"

"Answer the question, please," her voice seemed more brittle than it had before.

"Of _course_ I had nothing to do with it. That's the stupidest thing I've ever –"

"_Zoe!_" That time it was my mother cutting me off. "Lt. D'Sora," my mother said, using the command intonation I'd only rarely heard from her, "I think it's obvious that Zoe has told you everything she knows. As Captain Picard and the others are not on the ship, it should be equally obvious that a mere student could _not_ have been involved."

Jenna gave me a less-than-friendly look but nodded to my mother, "Yes, sir."

"Zoe," Mom said to me, "Thank you for your help. Why don't you go quietly inform Guinan of what's going on, and that the official reception is being postponed. I want to keep this off the comm channels." She glanced at Jenna. "Does that meet with your approval, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," D'Sora said again.

"If I don't find you in Ten-Forward by nine," Mom added, addressing me, "I'll see you at home."

"Gotcha," I said. "See you later, Mom." I flashed a smile at her, and also caught Ray Barnett's attention long enough to offer a tiny wave before I left the conference room.

**(=A=)**

I could have sworn the turbo-lift was empty when I got in it. If asked, I _would_ have sworn that the blue flash I saw was just my imagination. In any case, I jumped when a male voice said, very near my ear, "That blonde woman _really_ didn't seem to like you."

After a beat or two of recovery time, I took a look at my lift-mate. Male, tall, kind of average looking – too average? - and wearing… "You are _not_ actually an admiral," I said, eyeing his uniform. There was something off about it. Something I couldn't quite place.

"Aren't I? Pips don't lie."

"No, but the people wearing them do…sometimes. Anyway, what business is it of yours if some security lieutenant likes me or not?"

"Excellent question!" he responded gleefully. "Everything is my business if I decide it is."

"You must be pretty desperate for entertainment, then."

"Mmm. Yes and no."

"Way to be cryptic," I snarked.

He peered closely at me, and I shivered. There was definitely something weird about this guy. I moved toward the far wall of the lift. "Oh, stop shrinking silly girl. If I haven't hurt you yet, I'm not likely to. You're not Starfleet…who are you?"

"Who am I? Who are you?"

"Q."

"Q? Q what?"

"Just Q."

"Like the character in the _James Bond_ novels?"

"James…who?"

"Bond," I repeated, imitating more than one twentieth-century actor. "James Bond." I waited a beat, but he still didn't get it. "Fictional spy created in the twentieth century by a writer who'd been sort of a real spy..." his blank look finally penetrated my babble. "And…you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"Thankfully, no. In any case, I am Q…and you are…"

"On my way to Ten-Forward," I answered. "But my name's Zoe Harris."

"I don't remember seeing you before."

"Well, we have that in common," I said. "I'm pretty sure I've never seen you, either." He loomed forward, and then pulled back, and when he did so there was an almost palpable crackle of energy. "Did you do that?" I asked.

"I _am_ that," he answered.

"You really get a kick out of speaking in riddles, don't you?" But the turbo-lift came to a halt, and the door opened before he could answer, and when I looked back, there was no one else there. Weird. I shook my head to try and clear my thoughts, and headed into Ten-Forward.

Unsurprisingly, Guinan met me near the doors. "Zoe," she said staring over my head at…well, at nothing, as far as I could tell. "Are you alright?"

"I think so?" I said. "Sorry, there was a guy in the turbo-lift and…never mind. My mother asked me to relay a message that there wouldn't be a reception tonight. Can we go somewhere a little quieter?"

She nodded, and led me to an alcove near the end of the bar. "This is about the captain not being on the ship, isn't it?"

"Seriously, is there anything you _don't_ know?"

"Very little."

"Yeah, it's about that. There was a bunch of blue light and then there were costumes and then…everyone was gone. Well, not everyone, obviously, but pretty much the entire senior staff."

"Blue flashes?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just like in the turbo-lift."

"Did the…guy…happen to mention his name?"

"He said he was Q…and he didn't appreciate my Bond joke."

"Q? Q is here?" I couldn't tell if the older woman was angry, afraid, or some combination of the two. "You spoke to him." It wasn't a question.

"He sort of…appeared…in the turbo-lift."

"He does that," she said. "You have a comm-badge, don't you?"

"I have one, yes," I said. "Sometimes I even remember to wear it."

"Make sure you have it with you, and if you see Q again…call security."

"Guinan…?"

"I'm afraid I can't explain right now, Zoe. You should go to your quarters."

She was confusing me, but at the same time, I could tell she was agitated. "Okay," I said. "Thanks." I turned to go, but she called my name again, and I turned back. "Guinan?"

"I'm not brushing you off. Q is much more dangerous than he appears. I promise to explain what I can when Captain Picard has returned to the ship."

I nodded. "Okay." The promise of a future explanation only made everything else seem weirder.

**(=A=)**

Mom finally returned to our quarters about midnight that night. "I'm sorry, kiddo," she said as she came through the doors. "Lt Dean, Lt. D'Sora, Lt. Barclay and I are trying to figure out where everyone went, and how."

"I know how," I said. "Or at least, Guinan does, and based on my really funky turbo-lift ride, I'm pretty sure she's right."

"_You_ know…" my mother shook her head, her expression bemused. "So, daughter-of-mine, what's your oh-so-scientific theory?"

"Q."

"Q who?"

"That's what I asked him," I said. "But when I mentioned a stranger in the 'lift, and blue flashes to Guinan she said it was Q. I looked him up in the knowledge-base, but there isn't much that's publically accessible. You, with your actual clearance, might find more."

"I've heard of Q," she said, sitting in front of the computer console. "He's supposed to be omniscient or omnipotent or something. Whatever he is, I'm definitely not comfortable with you being anywhere near him." She paused. "I know you're concerned for Data –"

"Not _just_ Data –"

"- and everyone. But you need to get some rest. Maybe he'll be back by the time your class is supposed to start tomorrow."

"If he isn't…wake me up half an hour early? Someone will need to feed Spot."

"Security isn't likely to let you into an officer's quarters without explicit permission."

"Security won't have to. I'm still on his privacy lock."

"I didn't realize he'd added you in the first place."

"Data is nothing if not efficient. He didn't want me to be stuck in the corridor if he was late coming off-shift."

"That was nearly a month ago," Mom pointed out.

I shrugged. "I'm still there for music every Saturday morning, and video night on Thursdays – we skipped tonight in favor of hearing you and the captain speak at the opening of the conference, so, be honored, or something."

Her grin was as rueful as mine was wry. "When you put it that way…"

"Sorry, Mom. You know I love you and think you're awesome."

"Go to bed, Zoe, before this goes any further." But she wasn't irritated when she said it; she was amused, and as I passed her, heading to my room, she pulled me into a quick, fiercely maternal hug. "Sweet dreams."

That night, I didn't dream of Data or Lore. I dreamed of Lachlan Meade admonishing us to notice things. _Notice everything in th'world around ye, and then y'ken reproduce it in yer performances, _he'd said. But I had no idea what I was supposed to be noticing.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44749.08 **

**(Sunday, 1 October 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time)**

Three days later I was on my way to feed Spot again, when Jenna ran into me in the hall. "Data isn't back yet," she pointed out.

"I know," I answered. My first question every time my mother had returned to our quarters all weekend had been 'are they back?' "I'm just going in to feed his cat."

"Data has a cat?" she seemed surprised by the idea.

"He does," I said. "An orange tabby named Spot. I thought you were friends?"

"Less so, since last year," she admitted grudgingly.

The door opened as I approached, and I saw her take note of that. I hesitated in the doorway. "He's – _they're_ safe, aren't they?" I asked. "I mean, that Q-guy had all the charm of a used flitter salesman, but I can't imagine he'd let them come to real harm. Would he?"

"I wish I knew," she said softly. Then the second part of my statement seemed to register with her. "You've met Q?"

I shrugged. "Briefly. In the hall outside Ten-Forward. He seemed disappointed that I hadn't heard of him before."

"Sounds about right," she snorted. "At least, based on what I've heard."

I took a long, appraising look at her, and for a moment, I didn't see a bitter ex-girlfriend, but a woman who was worried about a friend, and trying hard to do her job with really nothing to go on. "If it matters," I offered, "no one among the civilians is afraid, and that means they trust that you're doing a good job standing in for Lt. Worf."

She managed the semblance of a smile, and looked like she was about to say something when her comm-badge chirped. She stepped aside to answer it, and I moved all the way into Data's quarters, where Spot was curled up on the couch with her head propped on the arm, as if she'd been watching – or at least listening to – our conversation. I fed her and then popped into the bathroom to clean her litter pan while she ate. Afterward, I sat cross-legged on the couch, knowing she would come and sit in my lap.

"I know you miss Data," I told the cat, running my hands through her soft fur. "I miss him, too." Spot's response was to head-but my hand every time I stopped petting her. I stayed a few minutes longer, then moved the cat off my lap. "I'll be back to give you dinner, if he's not back by then, Cat-ling."

I refilled her water dish and picked up her empty food bowl so I could recycle it. Just as I was stepping into the corridor there was another flash of blue light followed by and the somewhat bewildered voice of the android whose quarters I was leaving. "Zoe?"

I turned around to see him standing there, still in monk's robes – robes that were considerably dirtier than when I'd last seen them – "Data? Is it really you?"

"It is –" he started to say, but he was cut off by my barreling into him and wrapping him in an impulsive hug, one that he returned. "- me," he finished, once he had recovered. "May I ask why you were in my quarters?"

I stepped away from him, wrinkling my nose. "Do I get to ask why _you_ smell like a barn?" But I didn't wait for an answer. "I've been coming here twice a day to feed Spot. You _do_ know it's been two and a half days since you…vanished?"

He processed that information. "Interesting. It has been roughly half that time for us."

"So, Q can bend time?"

His gaze turned sharp. "You have been speaking with Q?"

"One brief conversation. He didn't seem all that powerful…more like, I don't know…bored and lonely."

"That is likely more accurate than you realize."

"Will you tell me about him, sometime? I get the feeling there are some pretty interesting stories."

"Another accurate assessment." The comm-system chimed, and he went to answer it, confirming that he would be heading to the bridge shortly. "I am afraid I cannot tell you any of those stories right now, Zoe. I must change and report for duty."

I grinned. "You might want to do more than just _change,_ but I'll get out of your way. I'm just glad you're back. Although, I'm kind of wishing we'd stuck to just doing video night on Thursday."

"Your point is well made," he said. "Perhaps our next activity should be on a night other than a Thursday. It is my turn to choose."

"Works for me," I said, and then, even though he really was kind of rank, I stepped close to him again and kissed him on the cheek, the first time I'd done so since _The Kiss, _as I'd come to think of it. "Spot missed you," I said softly. "So did I."

He didn't answer, but the corners of his mouth quirked upward and he brushed a stray strand of my hair out of my eyes.

I left the room feeling much lighter than I had in days, and by the time I got back to my own room, I was practically humming.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44749.94**

**(1 October 2367, 17:30 hours, ship's time) **

"Okay, Zoe, I'm turning into a prune," Ray Barnett said, hoisting himself out of the ship's pool rather than using the steps at either end. "I'm gonna go change. You about done?"

We'd been meeting on Sunday afternoons since my school year had begun, tracking the time so I could fulfill my physical education requirement for school. Surfing on the holodeck, it turned out, didn't actually earn credit. "I want to do six more laps," I said. I'd been pushing myself to increase my total every week.

"Dinner after?"

"I can't tonight," I said. "I'm having dinner with Mom and Ed and Data."

"Data?" he asked, only slightly surprised. "But isn't your vid night usually Thursday?"

"He comm'd with the invitation a couple of hours after he got back to the ship this morning. Apparently he feels the need to thank me for taking care of Spot."

"Wow, Zo', dinner with the parents…" Ray teased.

"It's not like that," I said defensively. "You _know_ it's not like that." I aimed a well-earned splash of water in his direction.

"Heeey," he said. "I'm teasing. I know you and Commander Data are just friends."

"I'm sorry. It's just…people keep talking and…"

"And I'm supposed to be on your side." His tone softened, and he squatted at the edge of the pool. "As your official 'brother from another mother,' I formally apologize," he said. "Finish up. I'll walk you home when you're done." He left for the changing rooms and I ducked under the water, and did six more laps that way.

For a moment when I got out of the pool, it seemed like the hand offering me a towel didn't belong to Ray, but was actually attached to the not-admiral from the turbolift. Q. He winked at me, and then he was gone, and my friend, back in his uniform, was watching me. "You sure you're okay, Zoe?"

I wrapped the towel around myself, and then squeezed water out of my pony-tailed hair. "I'm fine," I said.

I went to change, but my light mood from earlier had become somewhat dimmer, and for the rest of the night I was convinced I was being watched.

* * *

**Notes: **First thank you all for hanging in there. I never intended to make you wait over a month for this chapter.

Second, this chapter takes place around the season 4 episodes "The Nth Degree" and "QPid." Ensign Anaya is a canon character; she was at the helm in the episode either just before or just after QPid. Lt. Jenna D'Sora is, of course, Jenna from "In Theory," (but in my version of the Trekiverse her attempt at a relationship with Data took place almost a year earlier than it actually does in the show.). Lt. Dean is an older lieutenant whom we first meet fencing with Captain Picard in the teaser some other episode. Ray Barnett is my own creation, originally introduced to Zoe by Wesley Crusher in Chapter 44 of _Crush_, though she sees him the first time in Chapter 43.


	10. Drumbeats

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

**Drumbeats**

**Stardate 44765.55**

**(Saturday, 7 October 2367, 10:17 hours, ship's time)**

The ship was dead in space. Well, not dead-dead. Power, air, food, those things were all perfectly functional, but we were, apparently, limited to the slow crawl of impulse power. "So, who is the admiral who's coming?" I asked Data as he drilled me on scales and arpeggios. He called this 'going back to the foundations of technique.' _I_ called it 'being stupid enough to ask an android to be my music teacher.'

"Admiral Norah Satie," he answered. "Relax your left hand; you are straining unnecessarily."

"Everyone's really tense about her visit. Lt. Nguyen in the aquatics lab said one of the med-techs has been coming in every two hours just to watch the fish."

"Drop your right shoulder, and use your entire arm in your bow stroke." I glared at him, because Seth had made similar comments and I was annoyed that someone so creepy had been right, but he ignored my look and asked. "Is there something beneficial about watching fish?"

"It's supposed to be calming, or something."

"Ah! So if this medical technician is making frequent visits to the aquatics laboratory…"

"…then he must be really nervous about something," I finished for him. I played the last scale again, paying attention to the position of my shoulder. "Like that?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Please repeat that scale, using the same arm position."

"Remind me again why I wanted you to be my only cello teacher?"

"I will happily do so," he said, "after you repeat the scale."

Grudgingly, I played the scale again, and then, when he made a repeat request, I played it a third time. "Happy now?" I asked.

"I believe 'satisfied' would be a more accurate assessment. I will now remind you that you were uncomfortable continuing to work on your music with Lt. Starker. As well, there are no other people on the _Enterprise_ who are qualified to teach a musician of your caliber, and – "

"Data…"

"I am aware you meant the original question rhetorically." He didn't explain why he'd chosen to answer it anyway.

"Actually, I was going to ask you if Admiral Satie knew about this." I stuck my tongue out, displaying the metal tongue-stud I'd had Dr. Crusher insert in the hole that had been vacated when we'd removed the one Lore had inserted. "Or rather, does she know about…about what happened at Starbase Twelve?"

"A report was filed, and therefore it is possible that the admiral is aware of the incident, but it is not typical for a flag officer to investigate such an event."

"Oh." I waited a beat. "Do you know why she's coming?"

"That information has not been provided to me."

"Would you tell me, if you did know?"

"That would depend on the whether the reason for the admiral's visit was subject to security protocols," he said. "Zoe, it is unlike you to ask about Starfleet business."

I shrugged. "As I said, _everyone_ is tense. Me, included."

"I do not believe you have cause for concern," he said.

I chose not to argue with him, and refocused on my lesson, bur in my head, I kept hearing the chord progression that always means doom in a horror movie.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44778.72**

**(Thursday, 12 October 2367, 05:37 hours, ship's time)**

_"Would you like me to repeat the question, Ms. Harris?" _

_I was sitting in the same conference room where, five weeks before, I'd been telling Captain Picard and the rest of the senior officers of the Enterprise what had happened to me at Starbase Twelve, but this time, instead of sharing the space with people who cared about my well-being, I was across the table from Admiral Satie, the woman who'd been terrorizing the ship for the better part of a week. _

_Well, actually, I was across from Admiral Satie and her Betazoid assistant, a civilian 'consultant' named Sabin Genestra. Rumors on the ship said he was either her lover or her illegitimate son, but whatever else he might have been, he was seriously creepy. _

_"Yes, please," I said. _

_"How did you and Commander Data remove Lore's data solid from your tongue?" _

_I kissed him, I didn't tell her. I kissed him, and he didn't stop me. I kissed him and he kissed me back and then I ran, and all I can think of now is that I want to kiss him again. _

_Out loud, I said, "Through a process of experimentation, we determined that the release mechanism would respond to the chemicals present in Da – in Commander Data's saliva. He…applied some to the stud in my mouth." _

_"And the data solid was released?" _

_"It took a second or so. I spit it into my hand, and gave it to him." _

_"What did Commander Data do with the data solid?" _

_"Excuse me?" _

_"Do you know where Commander Data put the data solid that was retrieved from your mouth?"_

_I shook my head. "I don't know. Why would I know?" _

_"Isn't it true that you and Commander Data spend a significant amount of time together? Isn't it true that you are the only one of his students to be included on his notification list? Isn't it true that you have access to his quarters?"_

_She was battering me with questions, and I couldn't think fast enough to give appropriate answers, so I responded to the last one, first, "Only so I can feed his cat," I said. "No one else can get close to her." I had been in the room with them for two hours, and I was tired, hungry, and punchy. Even worse, I was alone: my mother had been refused entry on the grounds that I'd been declared a competent minor the previous January, and that she would receive a transcript of the session. "And I have no idea who is or isn't on his notify list. Why would I? He's my tutor." _

_"Do you deny your earlier statement that the two of you are friends?"_

_"No. I'm just saying, I have no reason to know where he put the data solid. Why don't you ask him?" _

_"Watch your tone, young woman," the Admiral said. She and Genestra exchanged looks, and then she held a brief whispered conversation with him. When they turned back to me, she had returned to the simpering woman she'd pretended to be when I first walked into the room. "What makes you think we haven't asked Commander Data about you, Ms. Harris? What makes you think he didn't tell us everything?"_

_"If you had you wouldn't be asking me!" I shouted. _

_"Calm down Ms. Harris." Genestra said the words this time and fixed me with his black-eyed gaze. "You will calm down," he instructed and I could feel my brain turning inside out. "What was on the data solid, Ms. Harris. Zoe. Zoe, tell us the message Lore sent to Commander Data." _

_"I don't know." _

_"You __**do **__know."_

_"I don't," I said. "I swear I don't." _

_"How did Commander Data administer his saliva?"_

_"He…I…"_

_"Tell us, Zoe…Tell us everything." _

_"No. No no, no. No! NO!"_

_Those black eyes came closer, his hands reached for me. I tried to get out of the chair and tripped over something, over nothing and landed on the carpeted surface of the deck. _

The impact of my body on the floor broke me out of my dream, but it was the sudden flare of light and my mother's worried voice that truly brought me back to myself. "Mom?"'

She crossed my room in two steps and crouched near me on the floor. "You were screaming, and then there was a thud."

I looked around, finally realizing I wasn't actually in my bed. "I was dreaming," I said. "Nightmaring, really. That's not a word, is it?"

"No," my mother said. "It's not."

"Well, it should be. That man…the admiral's aide. Mr. Genestra…he was rolling my mind, and then he tried to grab me and I fell."

"Looks like you fell out of bed, as well."

I blinked at her, my brain still not entirely awake. "Um…yeah. Looks like."

"I should never have let them question you," said Mom. "Can you get up?"

I looked down, saw myself tangled in blankets. "Um…"

"Give it a moment," she said. "Zoe, I'm worried about your dreams – your nightmares. I hoped if I let you keep the piercing in your tongue it might help, but they're getting worse. I was with you when Admiral Satie talked to you. No one grabbed you and Sabin Genestra barely glanced at you. All they asked about was whether Simon Tarses had ever spoken to you when he visited the aquatics lab."

"I know," I said. "It's just…"

"What is it?" She reached out and smoothed my hair away from my forehead. "Zoe, honey, whatever it is…you know you can tell me."

"Can I?" I asked her. "And if I do, will you promise not to judge? Not to get angry?"

"Zoe, sweetie, whatever you did, it can't be that bad."

_I kissed Data, Mom, _I thought to myself. I wanted to tell her, wanted the mom-advice that would be so different from the counselor's, not that Counselor Troi wasn't sympathetic. I just don't think she knew how messed up I was. _I kissed Data, and he kissed me back, and now I'm obsessing over when I might get to kiss him again, and I'm scared as much because he never did tell me what Lore's message was, as because I might never get the chance. _

"Could you…could you come with me to my counseling session today? I think…I think maybe there's some stuff you need to know."

"I can do that," she said.

"Could you also call me out of my morning classes?" I asked. "I wasn't sleeping well _before_ I had that nightmare, and now I'm all tired and wired and weird."

She peered at me as if trying to decide if I was just trying to avoid class, or if I really meant it, and whatever she saw in my face seemed to convince her that staying home would be a good idea. "I will, if you promise to rest. No music. No vids. No reading."

"Deal." I said. Well, I meant to say it, but it came out as a yawn.

"Let's get you back into bed."

She helped me untangle my sheets and blankets and looked away when I asked her to, so she wouldn't see how awkward I was when I got up – I was never graceful when I was tired – and then she waited while I changed into a fresh tank top and pajama pants because my original pair was sweaty and gross.

"All set?"

"Yeah." I slid down into the sheets, and let her tuck me in as if I were a five-year-old.

She must have caught my thought – the way mothers do – because she grinned down at me. "You're so mature and independent most of the time, kiddo…I forget sometimes that you're still so young."

"Counselor Troi says half my problems are just from being sixteen."

"She has a point."

"She also says that getting my own flitter for Christmas or my birthday would help me improve."

Laughing, my mother leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Nice try, Zoificus. I'm pretty sure Deanna said nothing of the kind."

"Well…no. But it still might help."

"Christmas is ten weeks away, Zoe, and your birthday's a month past that. If you're so keen to worry about the future, consider that you have college entrance exams in two weeks."

"Gee thanks," I grumbled. "Now I _really_ won't be able to sleep. Whoever decided to schedule college boards for Halloween is completely evil."

She laughed again, and then got up from the edge of my bed. "And on that note, dear child-of-mine, I will leave you to your slumber." She paused at the door, "Computer, lights out. Goodnight, Zoe. I love you."

I smiled into the darkness in her general direction. "Love you, too, Mom."

**(=A=)**

"Commander Harris – may I call you Emily?" Counselor Troi greeted my mother as warmly as she typically spoke to me.

"Of course, Counselor."

"Deanna," Troi corrected. "I keep telling Zoe to use my first name; perhaps it will help her if you lead by example."

"Deanna, then," Mom said. "Zoe had another violent nightmare early this morning. This time she fell out of bed."

"Zoe has a powerful imagination," Deanna agreed. "Her dreams are quite vivid and she is more adept than most humans her age at remembering them." She turned to me, "Can you tell me what you dreamed last night?"

I relayed as much of the dream-interrogation as I could, focusing on their questions about the tongue stud. While I talked, the counselor replicated a mocha for me, hot chocolate for herself, and plain coffee for my mother, who seemed faintly amused that counseling sessions were a mix of clinical psychology and coffee klatch.

"I was with Zoe when she actually _did_ talk with the admiral," Mom said. "Nothing she described actually happened."

"Except for the simpering," I put in.

"Zoe…" Mom said, but she glanced at the counselor and allowed. "Alright. The admiral did…simper."

"I suspect," Deanna said, "that Zoe would have dreamed about being questioned by the admiral and her assistants even if she hadn't met them at all. The entire crew has been tense since the warp drive failed, and Admiral Satie's presence here has only exacerbated that."

"Her dream last night wasn't a reaction to speaking with the admiral?"

"It was… and it wasn't." Way to be vague, Counselor. "What I mean is, her actual visit with Admiral Satie and Mr. Genestra gave her the characters for her dream, but the real subject isn't the interrogation itself, it's -" She stopped herself. "Zoe, perhaps you should explain."

I met the counselor's eyes and she gave me an encouraging nod and a warm smile. "Okay," I said to her. "Mom, my dreams…they're not really about the admiral or the Borg or anything else I keep telling you about." I saw her look of confusion. "I mean they _are_, on the surface, but really, they're _not._" I could tell she was getting impatient. "They're about Lore. And Data. Mostly Data, actually."

"I don't understand …"

"We didn't…I didn't….I never told you the specifics of how Data and I got Lore's tongue stud out of my mouth." I paused to swig some of my coffee-drink. Strength in sugar and caffeine, and all that. "I told you it was keyed to Data's saliva, but I didn't tell you…I never told you how we…applied it."

"Zoe, whatever it is, it's alright…" She stretched out her hand, and I took it with my free one. "Just tell me."

I gave her the rundown of the time in Data's lab, the fact that Lore had basically told us how to release it, the fact that we'd both come to the same conclusion but that Data had been unwilling to act on it without first exhausting every other option. "…and you were going to be home soon," I said. "So I kissed him. I kissed him, and he didn't stop me, and I ran from him."

Her hand stayed firmly wrapped around mine. Her expression only grew softer. The counselor, on the other hand, said, "There's more."

"Yeah," I said. "There's more…there's not knowing what was on that data solid, and not knowing why he kissed me back and both wanting and not wanting to know why, and being cheated out of a proper first kiss with him." I was close to ranting again, and I was covering ground I'd already walked with the counselor (all of it) and with Data himself (some of it) but it felt good to release it to my mother.

"Oh, Zoificus," she said softly. "I should have guessed something had changed between you two."

"But it hasn't, Mom…not really…because whatever that kiss was or wasn't – hey!" I interrupted myself, giggling, "It's Schrodinger's Kiss!"

"Zoe, focus." The counselor's calming tones brought me back to a sort of mental 'center.'

"Right, sorry. Whatever it did or didn't mean, I'm still a student, and under age. And he's my…" I started to say tutor, but while that was technically true, that wasn't how I thought of Data any more, and hadn't been, really, for a long time. "He's my friend."

My mother was silent for a long time. Then she released my hand, but it was only so she could pick up her coffee cup. She sipped some of the beverage and grimaced, probably because it was no longer hot. Then she looked from me to the counselor and back, settling on me, her fond expression the one I generally referred to as her 'gushy Mom look.'

"Data must have been very confused when you ran away mid-kiss," she said.

"It wasn't quite…I mean, I pulled away as soon as the stud came loose."

"Still," she said. I watched her take a breath. _Notice everything_, Lachlan Meade had kept telling us. In that moment I noticed how many of my mannerisms I shared with her. And I noticed something else…she wasn't angry or disappointed or weirded out. If anything, she seemed…relieved. Or maybe resigned. Or maybe…a bit of both.

"Mom?"

Again she made sure to include Counselor Troi in her statement. "I suppose I should be angry. You _are_ only a student; Data _is_ a line officer, as well as your tutor. But…I'm not surprised something happened between you two. I spent the summer getting to know him better," she reminded us. "I wouldn't say he pined for you, or anything close to that."

"No," Deanna agreed. "Pining would be a stretch."

"But he definitely missed you," Mom continued. "Zoe, none of us are blind. I'm sure Deanna here isn't the first person to notice the connection between you. I'm not a counselor, but it seems to me that you have two choices. You either give your relationship with Data time to mature, and see what happens, or you back away, and keep things professional."

"There are other options," Troi pointed out. "Most of which are inappropriate as Zoe is still young."

"I'm over the age of consent," I interjected.

"True. But we all know that consent laws are about protection, not permission. And I think you need to share your other fears with your mother, Zoe."

I nodded. "The other viable option is to drop his class, drop cello lessons, quit the quartet, and just ignore the fact that Data even exists, but I don't want to do that. The thing is, though, there've been rumors…I know you've heard them…and there's the other reason I keep having bad dreams…"

I paused again, this time to collect myself. "Mom, I'm terrified that Lore wants Data with him." I glanced at the counselor. We hadn't discussed that point yet. "But Mom, I'm even more terrified that someone will decide his friendship with me is wrong, and they'll…and they'll take him apart."

"Oh, Zoe…" my mother left her chair and pulled me out of mine and into her arms. Oh, baby-girl. That's not something you should ever have to worry about."

I didn't answer her. I didn't have the words. I just let her hold me a bit longer. Then the counselor suggested we end the session, and I agreed, as did Mom, although I had to ask, "Am I done with nightmares now?"

"Perhaps," Deanna said. "But perhaps not. You still have some unresolved issues. We'll talk about it next week, alright?"

I nodded. "Alright."

"And, Emily…call me if you have any questions?"

"I'll do that," my mother agreed.

We left Counselor Troi's office together. Outside the door, Mom said, "I'm glad you finally told me everything that happened between you."

"Me, too," I said. "But I'm sure you think I'm crazy, reacting this way over a kiss, when Tev and I were – "

"No," she said softly. "This is different. T'vek is a lovely boy, and I know he treated you very well, but he was – and still his – very much a boy, and the pair of you were little more than children. You're _not_ a child anymore, Zoe. And Data is…"

"…definitely not a boy," I finished for her, and we shared a mother-daughter grin, but mine faded quickly. "Are you going to make me stop hanging out with him? We usually do vid night after quartet rehearsal and that's tonight…"

"No," she said.

"No, we're not doing vid night?"

"No, I'm not going to stop you. In this, at least, you need to make your own choices. I trust you Zoe. I also trust Data not to harm you."

"He would never!"

"I know."

"Mom?" I asked as we entered the 'lift that would take her to the deck where she worked, and me to my afternoon classes. "Is it normal? To change so much in a year? I feel like I'm not even the same person I was when you first – when I first came here."

She reached out to ruffle my hair, but stopped herself, and gave me a less intense version of her 'gushy Mom look' instead. "In some ways, you're not the same person," she said. "But in most ways you're still you, just…older, and more experienced and maybe even a little wiser."

I laughed. "Maybe?"

"Mmm. A very little bit."

"One more thing…" The lift was approaching my deck. "Data…Data doesn't know I'm still having bad dreams, and he really doesn't know I'm…you know…"

"Not to worry, kiddo. My lips are sealed."

The turbolift came to a halt. "See you at dinner?" I asked.

"Count on it," she answered.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44780.50**

**(Thursday, 12 October 2367, 21:15 hours, ship's time)**

Quartet rehearsal had, for once, started and ended exactly on time, and for the first time in a week, the tension that had pervaded the ship was gone. Admiral Satie had declared her mission successful, or at least over – I wasn't privy to the details – but whatever they were, she was set to depart early the next morning.

Good rehearsals always jazzed me, and the four of us had really clicked that night, so it wasn't unusual that I was practically bouncing as Data and I walked toward his quarters for video night. What was unusual was that when we ran into Jenna D'Sora coming out of the turbo-lift we were about to enter, I didn't let her brief disdainful glance in my direction phase me at all.

"Data!" she exclaimed. "Just the man I hoped I'd see." She laid her hand on his arm, and I saw him glance at it before meeting her eyes.

"Do you require my assistance with something, Jenna?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd be up for an impromptu gathering in the forward observation lounge. It's Lt. Salazar's birthday." She lifted her other hand, waggling the instrument case she held. "Maria said I had to bring my clarinet. I'm sure an oboe would only improve things."

I half-expected him to take her up on the offer. After all, they'd dated the year before, and while I was never certain which of them had ended their relationship, her recent behavior toward me made it pretty obvious that she, at least, wanted a second chance.

"Thank you for the invitation," he said in his usual mild tone. I saw him move slightly, saw her withdraw the hand that had been touching him. "However, Zoe and I have plans this evening, and Spot is waiting for her evening snack. Please wish Lt. Salazar a happy birthday on my behalf."

"I'll do that," she said, deflating slightly. "Perhaps we could do something another night?"

"Perhaps," he answered, and then stepped into the 'lift. "Zoe, may I take your cello?"

Ordinarily, I would have thanked him for asking but declined the offer. That night, I handed it over to him. "Sure," I said. "Thanks." I joined him in the lift and the doors closed just as Jenna turned away and headed down the corridor. Even though I knew she couldn't hear me, I waited the length of time it took to move three decks before I said, "You could have gone with her; I would have understood."

"I am certain that you would have," he said. "However, we _do_ have plans, and Spot _is _awaiting her treat. As well, I am looking forward to learning what video you believe 'reminds you' of me.'"

I could feel myself blushing. "Oh. That. Actually, it's based on a novella by Isaac Asimov."

"You have read Asimov?"

"I read lot, actually. But yes, I've read Asimov. Or…I've been reading Asimov. Lately. Well, his fiction, anyway."

"Ah. What else do you read?"

I gave him a quizzical look. "Since when do you ask about my reading habits?" I asked. "No, don't answer that…I read lots of things. Mostly fiction, though I have a thing for memoirs and essays." The lift doors opened on the officer's deck and we left it together, heading for his quarters. "Mom used to read to me when I was very little – a chapter a night and she did all the voices – remember that for the future – when I was about…six, I guess, she was posted back on a starship for an extended mission, and she left before we finished _Anne of Green Gables. _I got impatient to know how the story ended. I waited as long as I could – about ten days, which, trust me, is impressive for a six-year-old girl – and then I picked up the book and finished it on my own."

While I'd been talking we'd arrived at his quarters, and by the time I finished my story he'd given Spot her evening treat – he was still doling out the catnip chews I'd brought him - and I had replicated tea and snacks for the two of us, and was waiting on the couch. "It was the last book we read together. Although _now_ we fight over library books and who gets to read new bestsellers first."

Data came to sit next to me. "Is having a parent read to you a typical childhood experience?"

Shrugging, I answered, "I guess so. I mean…I'm pretty sure all my friends had similar experiences. Why? Are you planning to read bedtime stories to Spot?"

He glanced at the cat, who was in the middle of the floor, playing with her catnip chew. "No," he said. "I do not believe she would appreciate such an activity." He turned back to me and cocked his head slightly. "Even if I 'did all the voices.'"

I laughed. "Maybe not. But I'd give anything to see you try."

"Perhaps I will make an attempt after our video," he said. "If we delay much longer it is likely that you will be unable to function at peak efficiency in class tomorrow."

"Yeah," I teased. "You're right. And my math tutor is really strict about people sleeping through his class. Get the lights?"

"Computer, dim lights by seventy percent. Engage entertainment system. Play video…" He paused. "You have not told me the title of this week's 'movie.'"

I smiled in the semi-darkness, and told him the name of the video I'd chosen.

He continued his instructions as if he'd known the title all along. "Play video _Bicentennial Man._"

Sometimes during video night we talked during the film, creating our own running commentary of observations. That night, we watched in silence. I'd seen it before, when I was seven or eight, in a hotel, while on tour with my father – it had been the only non-porn offering in a language we both understood – but I'd forgotten that the filmmakers had added a romantic subplot.

After the credits rolled, and we'd finished our tea and the vegetables and dip I'd chosen as an alternative to popcorn, I turned to Data intending to ask him what he thought, but even though his eyes weren't flickering back and forth, he was wearing his 'processing' expression.

When he still hadn't spoken after a full minute, I reached out and touched his shoulder. "Data? Are you alright?"

"I am sorry, Zoe. Yes. I am…fine."

"I should have checked with you before I picked this film," I said. "Andrew's attempts to understand humor are what reminded me of you…I didn't think about the rest."

"It was not a poor choice," he assured. "I, too have read the novella. The creators of this presentation took many liberties with the original story."

"Yeah, they did."

"The romance between Andrew and Portia was not part of the novella."

"No, it wasn't. I thought they did a good job of integrating it, though. The performances were good."

"It is…a different experience, seeing it played out on a screen, as opposed to merely absorbing the text."

"I _always_ feel that way about vids that are based on books."

"Does it make the story seem more 'real' to you?"

"Yeah kind of. Although sometimes the way plots are compressed is a little annoying. I read somewhere that it's best to think of most vids as though they were the result of the main character selling their story to a tabloid."

His eyebrows quirked at that. "An interesting perspective." He took a beat, then asked in a voice that was uncharacteristically tentative, especially for him, "Do you believe it is actually possible for a romantic relationship between and android and an organic being to be successful?"

It crossed my mind to remind him that we'd been watching a movie – a story – but I realized that for him, it really wasn't just a story. Not that it mattered, because I was confident in my answer. "I think if it's the right android and the right 'organic being,' it could happen," I said. "I mean, even human/human relationships take work, so I'm guessing that kind of relationship would require _more_ work, but why wouldn't it be possible?"

"My 'track record' with romantic relationships has hardly been successful thus far."

"I'm not sure I'm the best person to help you with this one, Data," I said softly. "You seemed to do okay with Jenna last year."

"I did….until I did not," he said, and I had to suppress a grin at his use of my phrasing.

"You could always try again. You've changed a lot in the last year, and she's clearly still into you…at least at the moment."

"No." He said the word as if there were a lot of weight behind it.

"No…what?"

"I have considered a second attempt at a romantic liaison with Jenna and I have discarded the idea. I believe the reason it did not 'work' between us last year is less because of what I am and more that…I simply do not wish to have a romantic relationship with her."

I couldn't help but clap both my hands together in delight. "Data! You just confirmed what I told you six weeks ago. Not _everything_ has to do with you being an android. I cannot believe it took you this long to get the point."

"I believed you were referring to certain issues with our temporary cohabitation."

If I'd been eating or drinking anything, that sentence would have elicited a perfect spit-take. "Could you maybe not refer to me staying here that way? It makes it seem like…" I trailed off. "Anyway, my point was that it's not an android/organic thing, it's just a…a person/person thing."

"A…person/person thing?"

"Yeah, you know, when you find the right person…the one who makes you aspire to be your best self, supports you when you need it, talks you down off the ledge when you're threatening to jump…the kind of person you always look forward to spending time with, who you can talk to about anything…or just be quiet with…or…just sort of…click with. Like in rehearsal tonight. The way we were all on the same wavelength – we've never played better as a group."

"You are comparing romantic liaisons to music?"

"Hi, have you met me? I compare everything to music."

"Hm." He refilled my teacup from the warming pot, and I picked it up and held it in both hands.

"I have a question for you now, if that's okay."

"Of course, Zoe."

"It's kind of personal." His response was just to offer his encouraging look. "In _Bicentennial Man_, most of Andrew's 'upgrades' are to make him more human in the physical – no, the physiological – sense. He wants to breathe and bleed and eat and have sex..." I trailed off. "But you already have those functions…don't you?"

"That is correct, but that is also information you already possessed. What is your question?" Sometimes, it seemed like he really did know me too well.

"You've talked about wanting to be human, but…I always thought you meant it in a more…what's the word? Oh! Metaphysical! I thought you meant it in a more metaphysical sense. I thought you meant you wanted emotional context and a thorough understanding of the human _condition_. Am I wrong…or…?" I grimaced. "I don't think I'm asking this correctly."

"You are 'asking it' very well. And you are not 'wrong.' I do not wish for physical change. However, in both the original novella and in the video we just watched, Andrew also wished for mortality. In the latter case, he also wished to age, and eventually die, with the woman he loved."

"Do you? Wish to 'age and eventually die?'"

"Do you recall me sharing that I had considered the possibility of marriage someday?"

I nodded. He'd mentioned it in one of the letters he'd sent over the summer. "I remember."

"When I discussed the possibility of marriage with Counselor Troi, she informed me that the ability to grow old together was considered a crucial part of marriages between most humanoids."

"But you won't…oh. But…some humanoids – well, some humans, anyway – engage in contract marriages where that isn't even a factor. Though, I don't see the point in that. If you don't want to commit to some version of forever, why bother getting married at all? It's not like anyone cares who's sleeping with whom as long as it's all consensual. Unless you're marrying a Starfleet officer and notification and benefits are a thing…but that seems really…cold, somehow."

"Nevertheless," he said, gently bringing our conversation back on track, "aging together is an important element of most humanoid marriages."

"Then I guess you're back to…if it's the right person, you figure out a way to make it work. After all, video-Andrew helped Portia to extend her life far beyond what's considered 'normal' for most humans." In the dimmed lighting his features were merely pale, the gold sheen to his skin effectively neutralized. I knew I was staring at him, but I couldn't help imagining what he'd look like with more organic coloring, and the image in my head made me wrinkle my nose in distaste. "Someone who wants you for you will be able to accept everything that comes with the package. And I'm pretty sure you'll figure out the emotional stuff someday."

"I am honored that you have such faith in me," he said softly.

I wanted to reach for his hand and squeeze it. I wanted to kiss him senseless. I did neither. Instead, I snorted and said, in a rueful tone, "Yeah, well, I also have faith that chocolate should count as a vegetable, so…consider the source." I avoided looking at him, and began collecting our used cups and plates, murmuring, "Data, there's something you should know…"

"Computer, increase illumination to eighty percent of normal," he said, before returning his focus to me. "What is it, Zoe?"

"I had a major nightmare last night – this morning, really –about Admiral Satie asking me about you and Lore and the data solid. It was violent…I woke up on the floor."

"But you are uninjured?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. But…Mom knew – and I'm guessing you do, too – that all she really asked me was if I'd ever spoken with Simon Tarses when he came to watch the fish."

"I read the transcript of your session with her."

"Anyway, I told her what was really the cause of my dreams, and she came to my session with the counselor earlier today, and...I finally told her how we really got the data solid out of my mouth."

"Ah."

"I just…I thought you should know."

"Was your mother angry?"

"Actually, she was more concerned with the fact that I'm still having nightmares. I mean, she did ask if you were any good…" I trailed off. "I really shouldn't tease you about that, should I?"

"I do not mind."

"Seriously?" I turned to face him.

"When you tease me, you are treating me as you would any other person whom you are close to," he said. "As well, when you tease me about aspects of our relationship, it shows that you trust me, that you trust…us."

"That's…annoyingly accurate and impressively insightful," I said.

"Thank you, Zoe."

I moved back to the couch to retrieve my shoes, because kicking them off had become as much a part of our video night routine as sharing pots of tea was, and the thought struck me. "Data…when you say I'm showing trust in 'us,' what do you mean? I mean…technically you're my tutor, but when it comes to music, lately it feels more like a partnership than a teacher-student dynamic, and, we're friends…but there are different kinds of friendships…and…sometimes it seems like we're on a slow trajectory toward something more…and then…people think we're dating…and…I don't know if things are black and white for _you_ – and if they are, I'm incredibly envious - but…sometimes I'm so confused.."

I finished zipping my second boot – the pair was a favorite of mine: forest green, soft faux suede, mid-calf height but kind of slouchy – and stood up to leave, but he was standing right in front of me. "I am also unable to adequately define our relationship," he admitted. "I believe Counselor Troi's suggestion that we engage in a greater number of public activities had two expected results: one, is that, as we have discussed, we would be seen together engaging in non-romantic activities."

"And the other?"

"I believe she wishes it to be a time for us to 'get to know each other' in a less intense environment than our musical Saturday Sessions."

"Does weekly video night defeat that plan, do you think?"

"Would you prefer to discontinue it?"

"No. Would you?"

"I find the exchanges we have during and after each video to be extremely enlightening," he said. "As well, it is time spent with together that does not require either of us to play an expected role."

We'd discussed that before, as well…the different roles people take on in public, in private, in different situations.

"So, what you're saying is…"

"I am saying that there is no deadline looming over us, Zoe, nor are we in a race. We have ample time to discover – together – what we may or may not be to each other."

"Have you considered taking up counseling as a second career?" I asked. "You're getting really good at the whole talking-around-a-question-without-really-answering-it thing."

His lips curved into something approaching a smirk. "Thank you, Zoe. I have learned from the best."

I laughed, and balled my fist, intending to give him an affectionate punch in the upper arm, but he caught my wrist. "You do not wish to do that," he said. "You would break your hand."

"Even at low impact?" He nodded, and I blushed faintly. "I forgot…I mean…not really…but…"

He seemed to understand my frustration, because he pulled me into a brief embrace and surprised me by dropping a light kiss on my forehead before he let me go. "It is nearly midnight, and I have the bridge overnight. I will escort you home." He picked up my cello before I could and headed out of the room.

In the corridor, I protested, "It's out of your way."

"Not significantly; please do not argue. You will only cause a delay."

I rolled my eyes, but at the same time I was grumbling I realized Data was, in his own way, expressing a kind of affection. We made the brief journey in companionable silence, and when we got to my door, I took his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. Then I took my cello from him, said, "G'night, Data," and went inside for a night of blissful nightmare-free sleep.

* * *

**Notes: **Sorry for the long delay, I whined about some of the reasons in the forum I created: forum/Welcome-to-the-CRUSHverse/177002/ I promise: long delays between chapters are NOT something I'm intending to continue.

This chapter is centered around the episode, _The Drumhead._ Data's letter to Zoe where he mentions thoughts of marriage is in chapter 2 of _Hello From Earth_. Thank you all for your patience. I actually finished (re) writing this in the dark during a power outage and the power came back on when I wrote the last word of the actual chapter. _Bicentennial Man_, the movie, was released in 1999. It was directed by Christopher Columbus and starred Robin Williams and Embeth Davidtz. It was based on the novella _The Bicentennial Man_, by Isaac Asimov.


	11. Disconnection

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

**Disconnection**

**Stardate 44803.2**

**(Saturday, 21 October 2367, 04:17 hours, ship's time)**

"Have they made contact yet?" I asked Data by way of a greeting as I entered his quarters in the wee hours of a Saturday morning. I could have been really, really early for that week's Saturday Session of music theory and technique, but for the face that I was wearing sweats and flip-flops and the Sun-Sand-Surf Santa Cruz t-shirt I'd purchased months before when my friends and I had spent the day on the California town's boardwalk.

Okay, sometimes I showed up for those music sessions in t-shirts, and once in a while in sweatpants, but never in flip-flops.

In any case, Data didn't seem to notice my attire. "As of seventeen minutes, six seconds ago, they have not," he answered me. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?"

"In order to have nightmares, one has to be able to actually sleep. I haven't…I can't. I think I'm at the point where I'm so afraid of what I _might_ dream, that I keep waking myself up." I moved past him to slouch onto his couch. "Pretty pathetic, don't you think?"

"I disagree. I believe it shows how much you care."

"You wouldn't say that if you were living inside my brain."

"Perhaps not." He seemed unsure of how to help me, and for a long few minutes we were both quiet, but it wasn't the comfortable silence of the times when we were working or reading in tandem, as often happened after video nights when I would linger, catching up on reading for school while he busied himself at his console. Instead it was the awkward silence of two people who were more than merely friends, far less than lovers, and barely beginning to navigate the gulf between the two.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I called you because I'm going crazy alone in my quarters, and I knew you'd be awake. I brought my padd…can I just curl up here and read for a while? You don't need to talk to me, or anything. I just need to be…not-alone."

"Of course, Zoe," he said. "Although the pallor of your skin and the visible 'dark circles' beneath your eyes would imply that tonight is not the first night you have gone without rest."

"It's not," I said. "Well, not entirely. Until they missed check-in, I was sleeping okay…if fitfully. It's weird –" I interrupted myself. "I used to revel in having the house – or my quarters – all to myself – but now I'm terrified of the solitude."

"It is likely that other stressors are creating the anxiety you feel, and that your mother's absence is exacerbating the situation."

I peered at him through narrowed eyes but when I spoke my tone was a teasing one, "You've been hanging around Counselor Troi way too much."

He ignored my snark, apparently taking my statement at face-value. "I have been 'in session' with the counselor on more than one occasion in addition to the times when we are on duty together on the bridge or on away missions." Or maybe not, because he added. "I find her insights into the emotional states of young women with 'creative' personalities remarkably helpful."

I took the bait. "Oh, you hang around with a lot of young women, do you?"

But he'd learned to read me well enough to catch the insecurity beneath my sarcastic tone. "You are quite aware that I was referring to you, Zoe."

I flashed him a tired grin. "Yeah, I know." But I couldn't keep up the happy, plucky pretense. "When Mom said she was leading an away mission, I was so proud of her…I mean…cultural anthropology is a 'soft' science. This isn't usual for her."

"Her expertise was needed for this assignment," he said. "It is one of the reasons she was selected."

"She mentioned something about a commendation for her leadership when you were all off playing Robin Hood with Q, as well."

"Yes," he confirmed. "Your mother, Lt. Barclay, Lt D'Sora, and Chief O'Brien all demonstrated strengths and skills beyond their typical duty assignments during that time. However, I would not classify our…excursion…as 'playing' anything. There was very real jeopardy."

"Is there real jeopardy for Mom and Reg and Jenna right now?" I asked softly. "Is that why they're two days late on their check-in? Mom made it seem like this was going to be a quick jaunt to confirm the age of some ruins, offer insight on the culture involved, and head back."

"I would prefer not to speculate," was Data's equally soft reply. "Zoe, your mother has the same training as any other officer. If she does not show that side of herself to you…"

"I know," I interrupted. "I know she does. She just downplays it a lot. But knowing that doesn't make me worry any less." I took a breath and then asked him. "Aren't _you_ worried?"

His expression was thoughtful. "I cannot _worry,_" he said. "However, I am concerned." His focus – and tone – sharpened slightly. "I cannot speak further with you about an active mission, Zoe. Please attempt to relax. I will inform you as soon as the away team has checked in."

I stared at him for a long moment, seeing the officer overlay the man, and oddly, that slight shift in tone made me feel safer. "I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have pushed for information."

He opened his mouth to answer me, but then something pinged on his console. "There is no need to apologize," he said. "I understand both your curiosity and your concern. I must finish my task now." He favored me with the merest hint of a smile and added, "Make yourself at home."

I smiled back at him, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I slid my feet out of my flip-flops, picked up my padd, and repositioned myself on the couch so that I was laying on my back with my head resting against the arm, and started to read.

It might have been the comforting sound of Data's quiet interaction with the ship's computer; it might have been the fact that Spot had joined me on the couch and was purring softly near my ear; it might even have just been that I was too tired to fear what I might dream, but I found myself nodding off in the middle of a chapter.

**(=A=)**

I woke in a bed that wasn't mine, but was still familiar, to the also-familiar, and even somewhat missed, feeling of Spot kneading my hair.

"Really, Catling," I told her as I tried to disentangle her, "Macrame is _so_ twenty-third century."

Her response? She floofed her tail in my face and darted from the room. I, on the other hand, made my way to Data's living quarters at a much more leisurely pace, first peeking around the door to see if anyone else was around.

"Ah, you are awake," he greeted me when I emerged fully into the room. "I did not believe the position you were lying in on the couch was an optimal one for the health of your neck and spine, so when you reached deep sleep I moved you to the bed."

"You carried me and tucked me in." It wasn't a question, I had a dim recollection of being in his arms, though I'm pretty sure I hadn't been really awake at the time. "Did I ask you to kiss me goodnight, or did I dream that?" I had an equally dim memory of him giving me a quick buss on the lips.

"You asked…"

"And you complied?"

"You were still mostly asleep. I determined that it was the easiest way to keep you that way and ensure that you rested."

"Better submit a correction to whoever owns the copyright for _Snow White_," I teased lightly. "The prince's kiss is supposed to _wake_ the sleeping princess, not send her deeper into dreamland."

"I will make a note of that," he said. "If you are hungry, please help yourself to the replicator."

I hesitated for a few seconds, trying to determine whether I was hungry, and if so, how much. "What time is it?" I asked him. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"

"It is eleven thirty-seven," he said.

"So I basically arrived hours-early for our Saturday Session, and then slept through a good chunk of it," I observed wryly. "How 'bout I run home and change and then you come with me for lunch – well, brunch, really – in Ten-Forward? That is, if you're willing to forgive me for missing my music lesson?"

"That would be acceptable," he said. "I will meet you at your quarters in twenty minutes."

"Thanks, Data." I said, referring both to his guarding of my sleep, and to the change in our regularly scheduled Saturday. I retrieved my padd from near the couch, and made for the door, then stopped, walked back into the room and around to his side of his workstation, and said, "It just struck me. Maybe it's a metaphoric waking up rather than a literal one, in _Snow White_. I mean, I keep discovering – waking up to - new and unexpected layers of awesome in _my_ handsome prince." As he had done to me the night before, I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Barely a whisper. Less, even, than when I kissed him on the cheek. "See you in twenty."

He was gracious enough to refrain from pointing out that I was down to eighteen minutes, or that he was not, in fact, a prince of any kind.

I was pretty certain, however, that both things were running through his mind.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44810.08**

**(Monday, 23 October 2367, 16:21 hours, ship's time)**

"Any word about your mom yet," Josh asked from where he was setting up some convoluted card game on the coffee table in my mother's quarters. We were supposed to be studying, but that had lasted all of twenty minutes before the boys had suggested playing a game instead.

I answered from in front of the food slot. "Nothing. They're four days overdue, and at this point I've asked Data for updates so often that he's almost managed to become annoyed."

"Zo', you're eliciting emotional responses from an android? Color me impressed."

"Commander Data doesn't have emotions?" Rryl asked before I could twit Josh for his comment.

"Definitely not human ones," I said. "Personally, I think he has his own version, but that's just opinion, and you didn't hear it from me." The replicator pinged and I retrieved the bowl of popcorn it had delivered. As I carried it over to join my friends on the floor around the coffee table, I said. "Anyway, the last time I asked him if he'd heard anything he informed me that my 'continued requests for information were beginning to negatively impact the efficiency' of his work. Then he made me promise not to ask him more than once a day. I'm pretty sure his next step was going to be making me write 'I will not beg Data for information he does not have' a thousand times on a white board."

"Wow," Dana said. "I never thought I'd see the day when Commander Data would even consider punishing _you_."

"Oh, it wouldn't be a 'punishment,'" I snarked. "It would be an 'object lesson' or a 'useful reminder.'"

"So, when did he make you promise?" she asked.

"Last night after dinner," I answered. I helped myself to some of the popcorn, and used the time to chew, swallow, and wash it all down with a swig of cola to survey the array of cards. "So, how does this game work?" I asked.

"'This game'" Josh began, "Is called _Objects and Obfuscations_, and you're going to love it."

"You really will, Zoe," Dana agreed. "You get to make stuff up."

Rryl took pity on me and began explaining the game. "Here is how it works," he said. "We are all members of an explorers club, and we are in competition to visit distant planets and bring back exotic artifacts, interesting anecdotes, and other evidence of our travels. Or at least, that is what we wish one another to believe. The reality is that we do all this without ever leaving our space station. We really just visit different shops and restaurants on the station, and collect items we think will support the stories we make up."

"The cards," Josh continued, "represent the different stores and other locations where we can pick up what we need. The two stacks in the middle are the Explorers' Clubhouse and the Zocalo Marketplace. The cards arranged around them are the art gallery, the bar, the clothing boutique, the news kiosk, the replimat, and the souvenir stand. Everything is one move away from either of the middle decks, and one move away from the nearest deck in the ring."

"It'll make more sense once we start playing," Dana said reassuringly. "But there are a few more stacks of cards. These over here," she said, gesturing to six single cards arrayed in a column, "represent the planets we're supposed to visit. Earth, Vulcan, Bajor, the Klingon Homeworld, Romulus, and Cardassia. They're all weighted differently, so you get fewer points for an adventure on Earth than you do for going to Romulus, for example."

"And finally," Rryl added, "you must take care to acquire all your necessary items and reach the clubhouse before the dastardly Doctor Nebula finds you."

"Okay, okay," I said. "I have two questions. One is, who came up with this game, and the other is…why don't we do this more often?"

The tone in the room shifted almost immediately, with my three friends exchanging awkward glances with each other. Finally, Dana said softly, "Zoe, the three of us – and sometimes Annette, too – _have_ been 'doing this.' You just haven't been available." She must have seen the defensive expression cross my face because she reached out and touched my hand. "Zo', you haven't. You were away all summer break, and then, well, we know what happened on Starbase Twelve."

"And since then," Josh said, taking over for his girlfriend, "you've been super busy and distracted. Voice lessons, cello lessons, quartet rehearsal, now the play, swimming with Ray every Sunday…and you've kind of been hanging out with Data a lot."

"Do not think we are judging," Rryl said. "It must be very difficult to have a crush on an officer who also acts as a teacher."

"It's not exactly a crush," I blushed. "But it isn't really anything more, either. I mean…we're friends, and…we kind of…fit together? I guess? But…I mean…Data would never do…nothing remotely inappropriate has happened."

"We know," Dana said, flashing me her warmest smile. "Really, we do. But we miss you, and we'd really rather hear the truth from you, than all the rumors coming from people who don't even actually _know_ you."

"I haven't meant to be distant," I said. "I just…I'm going through a lot, and there's stuff I'm not allowed to talk about." I took a breath, and drank more cola. "Okay," I said, forcing my brightest grin. "Are we finished with the touchy-feely portion of the afternoon? Because I'd really like to play this game while I still remember everything y'all told me."

We shared laughter, and we had a good couple of hours playing the game, and when Dana won both the first and second times we played, I was truly happy for her.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44813.69**

**(Tuesday, 24 October 2367, 23:57 hours, ship's time)**

Sickbay was always a little bit creepy in the middle of the night. I sat in the chair someone had placed near my mother's bio-bed and tried to lose myself in the rhythmic pulsing of the monitors, and the soft sound of her breathing, but I kept wanting to cry or throw things or both.

I'd known something was wrong when Data had showed up late to rehearsal for _Romeo and Juliet_ earlier that evening. Oh, he was only playing the apothecary, but he'd also been acting as the assistant director. He had entered the auditorium at a brisker pace than I'd ever seen him use, and gone directly to Dr. Crusher's side, whispering something into her ear. Then _she_ had left at a run, and he had come to me.

"Zoe, the captain wishes to speak with you," he'd said softly. "Will you accompany me to his ready room, please?"

I don't remember responding to him. I don't remember the walk to the turbolift, or being on the bridge for all of five seconds, or even arriving in the ready room. I don't even remember what Captain Picard said to me. I only know that he told me my mother's team had returned, that she was critically injured, and that she was in sickbay.

I remember his face and his voice, but not the specific words of his reassurances. Likewise, I remember Counselor Troi and Data sitting on either side of me on his couch, and I remember tears, uncontrollable tears, tears of relief that she wasn't dead, of fear about how bad her injuries might be, and of pain, on my mother's behalf.

I remember standing up, wanting to bolt from the room, and none of them allowing it.

The counselor had tried to pull me into a hug, but I'd turned to Data, and his arms had come around me, holding me against his chest. He, also, had given me reassurances that Mom would come through this injury just as she had her last. He hadn't let go until I'd sobbed myself out. He'd kissed my head then, and I was myself enough, at that point, to both feel and hear the slight reactions of both the captain and the counselor to that gesture.

Data escorted me to sickbay, assuring me that Counselor Troi would be available as soon as she'd checked in with D'Sora and Barclay, and that if I felt he could not provide me with adequate support, I should tell him. I'd been there since then…about four hours…except for some breaks to use the bathroom. I'd come back from one of the breaks to find the chair.

Data, Counselor Troi, and Nurse Ogawa had each checked on me a couple of times, and Dr. Crusher had sat with me for a half an hour after she'd explained that Mom had taken a phaser blast to the chest and shoulder when locals on Maarklin III had objected to Starfleet's presence at the dig site. I was still foggy on the details – something about an argument between religious and scientific factions on the planet, a protest that had escalated, and people firing hand weapons from the crowd. All of that had resulted in their four-day extension of planetside time.

"The phaser burns themselves are not that bad," the doctor had informed me. "But the impact caused your mother to lose her footing, and she hit her head. Barclay and D'Sora did everything they were supposed to, but she's unconscious, and will probably remain so until morning."

"Will…will she be…herself when she wakes up?"

"I can't detect any permanent brain damage," she'd told me. "I think part of her current state is due to a local treatment being used, but as far as I can tell, she'll be fine.

"Jenna and Reg – were they hurt, too?" I didn't really care so much about the blonde security specialist, but Reg Barclay was a decent guy, and he'd helped my friends and me with holodeck projects more than once.

"Reg was caught by one of the shots as well," she told me. "But he managed to keep his feet. Jenna was unharmed."

"Seriously?" I wasn't sure if I was impressed or annoyed. "Seriously?" I had repeated. Oh Annoyed. Absolutely. "You don't think it's a little ironic that the _security officer_ is the one member of an away team to _not_ be injured?" I'd crossed my arms over my chest and turned away from her.

The doctor was also the mother of a teenager, and had likely chalked my response up to teenaged angst. Still she said, "Sometimes it happens that way. Jenna probably feels awful about it. I'm going to leave you alone now," she said. "Poke your head in my office if you need anything. And talk to her. She needs to know you're here."

I'd kept my back to her but I'd still answered. "Okay."

Hours went by. It was nearly midnight, and the lights had been dimmed. I was tired and hungry, but I was also loathe to leave, so I scooted my chair closer, held Mom's right hand in both of mine, and began telling her about the things in my life that had changed in the week she'd been gone. "I did something stupid, Mom." I said. "I couldn't sleep the other night, and I went to Data's…I brought my padd and I started to read, but you were already overdue and I was worried and I fell asleep, and he put me in his bed."

I felt like someone was watching me, but when I looked around, I didn't see anyone within hearing distance, so I just lowered my voice a little, and told her about Data kissing me goodnight when I'd asked, and about returning the gesture the next morning. "It was a nothing kiss, Mom. The kind of kiss I'd have given any of the guys from Dad's orchestra, you know. So…why do I feel like this one…_mattered?_"

The only answer was the continued pulsing of the monitors tracking her heartbeat and respiration, so I just adjusted myself in the chair, and kept hold of her hand.

**(=A=)**

I must have dozed off, because I woke with my head resting on my arms on the side of the bio-bed, and a gentle touch to my shoulder.

I was expecting Data or the counselor, but it was neither. It was an older woman, who was faintly familiar, though I didn't know why. "Child, you're exhausted," came her voice, warm and concerned. She turned her black eyes first on me, and then on my mother. "She heard you, dear," the woman said. "She's resting now, and she wants you to rest, too, but she'll see you in the morning."

"You're not part of the medical staff," I said, stating the so-very-obvious. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet, dear, though I've heard of you. My daughter is your counselor."

I took a better look at the woman. Her face was careworn and, unlike most of the holopics I'd seen of her, had been scrubbed mostly free of makeup. Her black eyes seemed to exude sympathy. Her hair was down, and slightly unkempt, and her clothes her expensive, but again, far less ornate than what she typically wore in media depictions.

"You're Ambassador Troi?"

"I am," she said, sparing me the recital of the rest of her titles. "You may call me Lwaxana, if I may call you Zoe," she offered. "Deanna tells me you're a connoisseur of tea. Why don't you take me somewhere where we can share a cup?"

It crossed my mind to object, but I was pretty sure she'd win any argument I made, so I just said. "There's a lounge around the corner. The view isn't great – mostly the medical staff sends family members there in the middle of the night – but the replicator seems to have better than average tea production abilities."

She favored me with a smile that was so much like the counselor's it was truly uncanny. "That sounds wonderful," she said. "Lead on, my dear."

I stood up and pressed a kiss to my mother's forehead, then moved away from the bed, and out of sickbay. I'd been diligent about wearing my comm-badge when my mother was away, just in case word had come when I was in class or rehearsal – but now, I knew, it would be beneficial if anyone needed to find me because she woke up. "Sure," I said. "This way."

We went to the small lounge nestled into one of the curves of corridor outside sickbay, retrieved mint tea from the replicator and sat on facing couches. Gently, so much so that I almost didn't realize she was doing it, the counselor's mother steered me into a conversation about how this was _my_ mother's first away mission, or at least the first one that I'd been aware of, and how I'd been so worried I couldn't sleep.

"I used to worry like that about Ian – Deanna's father – when he was alive," she said. "Eventually, I learned to find constructive ways to spend the hours when _I_ couldn't sleep." She pinned me with her gaze. "You'll have to discover coping mechanisms of your own, child, if you're planning a life with an officer someday."

"But I'm not –" I began. "I mean…"

She went on, almost blithely. "It's a challenge, of course, because you've fallen for a man who is singularly unique, and may not even have discernable emotions."

"May not have…" I said. "You heard me talking to my mother?"

She shook her head. "No, child, and I didn't read your mind either. Doing so would be the height of rudeness, especially as we hadn't met properly. You're broadcasting your feelings for the android at such a mental volume that I'm surprised every telepath in the sector isn't demanding that you be taught a mental block."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

But she went on, still in her breezy tone. "Not that anyone would actually need telepathy to figure it out. I saw the two of you in that Ten-Forward lounge the other day. You weren't even touching but it was obvious the pair of you were vibrating in similar frequencies."

"Well, one of us might have been vibrating…a little…but Data certainly wasn't…"

"Oh, it's definitely not just you, dear. Mr. Data may believe he's a man of mystery, but for someone made of wires and plastic and bits of string he's got surprisingly obvious body language. Not every observation requires telepathy, you know, though of course, it does help to find the truth of things."

"I had no idea it was that obvious."

"Ah, young love… Those who are in the middle of it always think no one notices, when actually, everyone does. Enjoy it while you can, my dear. Eventually the excitement at forging that first connection fades, and before too long that first blush will be a distant memory and you'll be faced with losing the people you love to bizarre rituals that cut a life in half for no good reason."

I wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it didn't seem to matter. Somehow, I sensed that she wasn't really talking to me, but using my presence to be able to think out loud. I listened to her babble softly about someone named Timicin and turning sixty, and as she talked, I began to drift, going so far as to stretch out on the couch, as no one was around.

I don't know how long she talked, or how long after she stopped talking that we stayed there in companionable silence. I wasn't asleep, but I wasn't really conscious of the passage of time, either. I do know that Data arrived at some point, and had a whispered conversation with the ambassador. I heard her say something about taking off his shirt which confused me, though his wholly audible answer did not: "I will stay with her until the doctor comes to find her."

Lwaxana paused near me before she left, whispered for me to take care, and caressed my forehead in that most maternal of gestures, and then Data did something that honestly surprised me (though it also made Lwaxana's words make sense). He removed his uniform jacket, revealing the solid black t-shirt that he wore beneath it, laid it over me like a blanket. "I had thought to escort you back home," he said. "But Ambassador Troi suggested you would prefer to stay here, near your mother. Go to sleep, Zoe. I will be here."

He didn't need to tell me twice.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44814.43**

**(Wednesday, October 25 2367, 06:29 hours, ship's time)**

As Lwaxana Troi had said, my mother was awake before I was the next morning. Dr. Crusher had come to find me just after the day shift had begun, and while she had been speaking, I had been trying not to be too obvious about watching Data put his uniform back together. The night before I hadn't noticed that his creator had given him the illusion of surprisingly well-defined biceps for a man who would have been of average height and build if he'd been human. I also hadn't noticed that he looked really good in black...but then Starfleet 'gold' wasn't anyone's best color.

"I must return to duty," he told us, directing the additional information to me that I was welcome to call upon him if needed, and that he would not expect me in class that day.

I thanked him, and turned back to the doctor, who was explaining that Mom would be kept in sickbay for the rest of the day, and was on light duty for the rest of the week, but was otherwise fine. Gotta love living in the future.

My mother and I had a tearful reunion, but the tears were happy ones. She promised me she wouldn't get seriously injured again for at least a year, and I pretended to believe her. _I _swore that I wouldn't be a nuisance to certain gold-toned second officers the next time she was on an away mission, and _she_ pretended to believe _me_.

**(=A=)**

A day and a half later, as I was heading home for lunch between classes, I ran into Counselor Troi exiting our quarters. "Hello, Zoe," she said. "How are you?"

"I'm…okay," I said. "I mean, I'm still a little behind on sleep, but…is my mother okay?" I changed the subject.

"She's fine," the counselor answered. "I was just here checking in with her."

"And _your_ mother?" I asked

"She's…better." Counselor Troi gave me her warmest smile. "She said she sat with you a while the other night. Thank you for being patient with her."

I shrugged. "Actually, she was really nice. She spent more time talking _at_ me than she did talking _to_ me. I think she just needed a sounding board."

Thoughtfully, she agreed, "That may be so." Then she smiled at me. "I'm sorry I had to cancel our session this week, but if you have time before your next class, I'm headed to Ten-Forward for lunch."

"I was going to see if Mom needed anything."

"When I left her, she said she was going to go back to bed," she said, "which is the best thing for her."

I glanced at the door, but I knew the counselor was probably right. "I could eat," I said. "Actually, I'm pretty hungry, but you should know I'm not likely to talk about anything but being nervous about taking the college boards on Tuesday. I'm even this close," and I held up my hand with my thumb and forefinger practically touching, "to cancelling video night with Data tonight."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she said. We entered a turbolift. "We haven't talked about your future plans in a while. Are you still planning to audition for the Martian Academy?"

As we exited the lift and walked toward the lounge, I explained. "I'm still going to audition, but…the more experience I have with theater, the more I think I want to do something a little less limiting. And then, between Ed's class and Federation History, and all the fuss with the Keep Earth Human League back on Starbase Twelve, I'm kind of getting more interested in politics and social change."

We found a table, and sat down. "Politics, really?"

"I wouldn't want to run for office, ever...but being here on this ship, meeting people like your mother…I read her book, by the way. Underneath all the flouncing and frivolity she's pretty amazing."

"Yes," Deanna agreed. "So, politics and social change interest you, but you don't want to even consider Starfleet?"

I gave her a look. "I can't believe people are still asking me that." We ordered food – a sort of scampi made out of a Betazoid shellfish called oscoid, and Blue Leaf salad – and I continued. "I know it disappoints my mother that I have zero interest in following her footsteps, but I know myself well enough to know that much structure – rules and uniforms and all that – would stifle me. And it's just…not what I want to do."

"What _do_ you want to do?"

"Not have to choose?" I teased. "I told Geordi once that I didn't want to be an idiot. That's what I mean when I say The Martian is limiting. All they do is crank out professional musicians…it seems stupid to have spent basically my whole life focused on cello and then decide not to pursue it, but…"

"But you haven't," she said. "Zoe, I've read the resume you gave to Beverly. You've had theatrical experience all your life. You spent half your summer doing it. Why aren't you looking at theater schools?"

"Truth?" I asked.

"Always," she said.

"That's limiting, too. Just…not as." I sat back a little as our food was delivered, and then took a few bites, using the time to form my answer. "I love performing, but even though I have no interest in _Starfleet_, that doesn't mean being around Mom, you, Geordi, Data, hasn't affected me. I don't want to be some vapid entertainer; I want to do something that matters. Make the universe a better place, and all that. I mean, look at Gran – she traveled to all these different worlds as a civilian first contact expert and used folk music to form connections."

"So, if you could design your own course of study, it would incorporate theater and politics and social justice?"

"And music, because I don't want to not-play, I just don't necessarily want to do it as a career." I'd never stated it so plainly before. Then I grinned. "Also literature, and philosophy, and, and, and…"

We laughed together, then shifted the conversation to much lighter topics for the rest of our meal.

**Stardate 44831.84**

**(Tuesday, 31 October 2367, 14:56 hours, ship's time.) **

It turned out that the video night I hadn't cancelled after all was the last time I saw Data until the following Tuesday. He cancelled our tutorial on Friday because of some visiting ambassador with whom was working on a project involving the people of Peliar Zel, which planet was currently the focus of the ship's orbit. I cancelled that week's Saturday Session with Data so I could have more prep time. He had given us all homework to be done on our own, since he'd been needed on the bridge on Monday.

By the time I'd completed my battery of tests, I was tired, wired, and hungry. There had been common tests for the major university systems, and supplemental ones for specific schools. I was doing a music supplemental, while Rryl, for example, was determined to follow his father into Starfleet, so he had a special exam for that. The whole thing began at 08:00 hours and continued through 14:30, though there had been breaks, of course.

Data had contacted me the night before to wish me luck – I was pretty sure Josh, Dana, and Rryl had received similar messages – and invite me to a late lunch 'after the examinations have concluded,' but I'd asked if we could have tea that evening, after rehearsals for _Romeo and Juliet_, instead. I knew my friends and I would want the afternoon to decompress. (We ended up loading a laser tag program on one of the holodecks, and blasting each other to smithereens for hours.)

We ran into Jenna D'Sora again, on the way to Data's quarters after rehearsal. We'd taken a detour to deck nine so I could drop my padd at at home and she was leaving my quarters as we got there. "Data," she greeted him first, but, I noticed, refrained from touching him this time. "Zoe. I was just with your mother."

I was already tired from the day – exams, laser tag, and rehearsal - and stressed over my mother, who wasn't bouncing back to her usual self since her injury, and even (still, always) over Lore, even though I'd mostly stopped having nightmares, and hadn't brought up the near-constant edge of fear that now colored everything. Then, too, Jenna and I had rubbed each other the wrong way from day one, so it probably shouldn't have been surprising that my response was spoken without any thought.

"Why? Did you come to finish the job?"

"I…I'm not sure what you mean," she said, but she didn't let her eyes meet mine.

I saw something change in Data's eyes – a sharpening of focus I'd only glimpsed a couple of times before – and a hardening of his posture. Officer mode. _Command_ mode. He spoke my name in a still, calm, voice, but I ignored him.

"I mean, you're a security officer and you were the only one of the three of you to come home uninjured. Weren't you supposed to protect them? Weren't you the one who should have been shot?" From somewhere outside myself, I heard the words I was throwing at her, and was shocked at myself. That part of me recognized, however faintly, that Jenna was probably already beating herself up about that mission, but the part of me that was actually speaking was out of control.

"Zoe, I…" Jenna glanced at Data, and then back to me. "I'm sorry. I never meant for anyone to be hurt."

"Right," I snarked. "Of _course_ you didn't."

"Zoe." Data again. Slightly louder. More than a warning; an admonishment. It should have stopped me, but apparently his brother had been right. My mouth was going to get me in serious trouble someday. _That_ day. "I do not believe you mean what you are saying. Perhaps you should apologize."

"Oh, right, take her side," I spit at him, even though he was quite obviously not taking sides at all. I turned back to Jenna. "Isn't your job supposed to be to take the blast when someone's aiming at you? Why didn't you?" I asked. "Or better yet, why didn't you just turn your phaser on yours-" I was horrified by my own words.

"Ms. Harris, you are out of line." Data's voice, raised just enough to cut through the white-cold numbness that had taken over my brain. "You will enter your quarters and remain there. Lt. D'Sora, I suggest you also return to quarters. If you wish to file a grievance against Ms. Harris, it would not be unwarranted."

I was pretty sure he meant that mostly for my benefit. Well…kind of sure. He'd never raised his voice to me before, and he hadn't addressed me by my last name since that teen brunch over a year ago. Part of me wanted to apologize, but the other, darker part that was taking control wouldn't let me.

I heard Jenna utter a soft, "Yes, sir," and walk off.

I lifted my eyes to Data's, but he'd gone completely cold. "Did you not hear me?" He is tone was level, reasonable, just a hint of forcefulness underlying the words. "Please remain in your quarters until otherwise notified," he said, restating the instruction.

I nodded, and backed into the door, which opened and let me through.

I didn't cry until they'd closed behind me.

My mother looked up at me from her position on our couch, but whatever she saw in my expression made her hold her tongue. She gave me a look of comingled sympathy and worry.

I just muttered, "I'm going to bed," and bolted for my room. There on my bed, I let the tears flow freely. I was hurt, embarrassed, mortified, apologetic, confused, and frightened, and those were just the feelings I had names for. I curled up in the darkened room and cried myself to sleep.

It wasn't even twenty-two hundred hours.

* * *

**NOTES: **This chapter spans the episodes _Half a Life_ and _The Host_. The away mission that Jenna, Reg, and Zoe's mother (Emily) go on is my own making. The game she and her friends play is a riff on Cheapass Games' _Stuff and Nonsense_, and is great fun. I was part of the Kickstarter for it, but I think you can buy it on their website. A note to RED: I had already written the scene with Zoe's friends when you left your note, but thank you. As for movie night suggestions…we'll see. (Also thanks for your recent comments for everything else…I've been dealing with storm-head and an overpacked schedule and your notes really helped keep me going.)


	12. Dissonance

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

**Dissonance**

**Continuity Note: **This chapter takes place four days after the one-shot, _Counseling Sessions_.

**Stardate 44842.23**

**(Saturday, 4 November 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time)**

I knew something was 'off' when I arrived at Data's quarters for our Saturday Session and found Geordi there, arguing with him. "I'm sorry, my friend, but this is one of the most reckless ideas you've ever had."

"I have decrypted as much of the information as can be done otherwise," Data said to the engineer, using his most patient and rational tone. "It is clearly designed to interface with my neural net, and I cannot install it myself."

I set my cello on the floor and leaned on it. "Did I miss a comm or a message? I feel like I'm interrupting something."

"Good morning, Zoe," Data said. "We will be finished in a moment."

"Hey, Zoe," Geordi said at almost the same time. He glanced at me, but then returned his focus to our android friend. "We're actually done _now_, because I'm not going to help you with this, Data. I think it's a bad idea." He looked back at me. "Zoe, tell him it's a bad idea?"

"I'd be happy to," I said, "if I had the merest hint of a clue about what you were talking about."

"I have accessed the first layer of information on Lore's data solid," Data supplied. "It is a collection of documents detailing with the founding of a corporation called the Soong Foundation, and listing all of the financial holdings of said corporation, as well as the personal property of Dr. Soong himself."

"So, dear old dad died rich and intestate?" I asked. "That sounds more like a legal snafu than a bad idea."

"He didn't tell you the part about there being more layers of data on that solid, and about wanting to stick it in his head."

"As I explained," Data said, "The solid is actually a chip designed to interface with my neural net. I do not believe it will cause harm."

"You 'didn't believe' Lore would do anything to hurt me, when he was stalking me in San Francisco all summer, either," I reminded him. "And you know how that turned out."

It came out angrier than I meant it, but that had been happening a lot since I'd yelled at Jenna in the corridor earlier that week. Counselor Troi believed I'd been repressing fear and anger about what had happened to me on the way home from Earth, and that my shifting relationship with Data was causing my blocked feelings to finally surface. She insisted that was a good thing, but I was not so sure.

Geordi was clearly as uncomfortable with the idea of sticking Lore's chip in Data's head as he was with my reaction. "I have to go," he said, easing toward the door. "Call me if you need anything," he added. "You, too, Zoe." The engineer left the room.

I waited for the door to be completely closed. "What if it's not just information?" I asked. "What if it makes you…like him?"

"I cannot become 'like him,'" Data assured, his tone as reasonable as it ever was. "I would not consider installing this chip if I did not believe it to be necessary," he added. "And I _cannot_ install it without help. As Geordi has refused his assistance, I must ask that you provide yours."

"Me?" I was shocked and horrified at the concept of being invited to poke around – literally – inside Data's head. "You want me…to…" Actually, I was shocked, horrified, and a little bit…pleased…that he trusted me enough to do it. "You do realize that the extent of my computer expertise is hacking the replicator system to get around the age protocols and get booze, right?" I probably shouldn't have admitted that, and it did earn me a raised brow from him. Probably he'd be speaking to Geordi or Reg about rewriting the relevant protocols, as well.

"You do not need 'computer expertise,' for this task, Zoe. You only need fine motor control, which you demonstrate every time you play your cello, and the ability to follow instructions, which we established on Wednesday that you also possess."

I blushed faintly at the last part of his statement. He'd reprimanded me – rightfully so – and I'd taken him literally when he'd restricted me to quarters afterward, then neglected to lift the restriction the next day. His explanation – given on Thursday evening during video night (I'd chosen a vintage twenty-first century feature film called _Thor_) – was that he assumed I would ignore that part of his order.

Well, _I'd_ called it an order. He'd said it was a 'request.' We'd finally agreed on 'instruction,' but by then half the video had played, which was fine for him, what with his super android multitasking abilities, but it meant I really hadn't been clear on anything but the fact that the actors playing Thor and his brother Loki were both kind of hot.

"It matters that much to you?" I asked.

"It matters that I discover Lore's plans and his location, in part so that I can ensure your continued safety." His yellow eyes met mine, and I couldn't look away. "As well," he added very softly. "I wish to retrieve something he stole."

"The emotion chip," I said, remembering our very first conversation about his brother.

"Yes." He waited a beat. "Will you assist me, Zoe, so that we may both learn the full extent of my brother's message?"

_Say no_, the sane part of my brain screamed at me. _Say no, and make him promise never to bring it up again. _I was never good at listening to my own advice. "Can I think about it?" I asked. "And decide after my lesson?"

"That would be acceptable."

**(=A=)**

I stretched my lesson out as long as I possibly could. Every theory question Data posed to me, I answered, then asked three follow-up questions of my own. I even tried to get him to babble about the difference between absolute and tempered pitch, but he kept the explanation brief – for him – and we moved on to the practice portion of our time together.

Most Saturdays that was what I lived for. When we'd first started playing together we'd had to make a conscious effort to mesh our styles, use breathing techniques and metronomes to stay in synch. Over a year later, our deeper friendship had also deepened our musical connection: when we played music together it was as if we were one being.

The piece we were working on was a solemn one, Faure's famous Pavane, arranged as a duet for violin and cello, and it had been his suggestion. I knew it was used at funerals a lot. I didn't know why he'd chosen it – later, it would seem incredibly appropriate.

We played it through twice, and when I set my cello down, and I met his eyes, I knew what he was going to ask. "Don't," I said. I left my chair and stood in front of him. "You'll be able to talk me through what I have to do, and there's no way I can mess up?"

"We will insert the data solid in an auxiliary access panel. You will not be able to damage me."

"What if something goes wrong?"

I could tell he wanted to assure me that nothing could go wrong, but that his ethics program wouldn't allow the well-meant fib. "It is unlikely that anything will go wrong –"

"But if it does?"

He reached backwards to set his violin and bow on the couch, and then he stood up and removed his uniform jacket. It was only the second time I'd seen him without it - the first time I was fully awake for it - and for a moment I was distracted by how different he looked. In uniform, he was almost cuddly. In all black, he was suddenly more masculine. The tight t-shirt fit him like a second skin, and left nothing to my admittedly overactive imagination. It showed off the biceps I'd glimpsed before, as well as sculpted (in his case, quite literally) pecs – he had nipples, I noticed - as well as…who gives an android a navel?

"Give me your hand," it was a request, softly phrased, and I complied without hesitation. He took my hand in his, and guided it to the small of his back. In all the times we'd hugged, I'd never touched him there, and now I wondered how much of that was luck, and how much was by design. "Do you feel that projection?"

"Mmhmm."

"Zoe?"

I shook my head to clear it. _Stop thinking about touching Data and pay attention. _"Sorry. Yes. What is it?" If I l lifted my head, stepped backwards half a step, we'd be kissing. _Stop it, stop it, stop it. _

"It is my…." He hesitated, used the time to move my hand away from his back, but didn't let it go. "It is my power switch."

It should have surprised me. I should have been rocked by the reminder that he was a machine. I should have asked how much pressure it took to activate the switch and deactivate…him. Instead, I asked the one thing I really wanted to know, "Does it show?"

"Show?"

"If you take off your shirt; does it show?"

"Ah. No, it is subcutaneous."

_If I asked you to show me, would you? _I didn't say.

He was holding my left hand. I placed my right in the center of his chest, felt the power of him, the solidity. He – it wasn't a flinch, really, more of a…start…but he _reacted_ to my hand there. He looked down at it, then lifted his head in three stages, first his eyes, then his chin, and then he was looking at me with his brows furrowed into his 'questioning' expression. "Okay," I said.

"Zoe?"

"I'll…I'll do it. I still think it's a bad idea, but you're not the only one who _needs_ to know Lore's game. I'd rather be an active participant than a pawn, any day." I grinned and gave his chest an affectionate push. "But, just so you know, I'm choosing our videos 'til I'm ninety."

"Agreed," he said. He didn't bother to put his jacket back on, but went to the chair behind his workstation and sat down. "You will need to come here," he reminded me gently.

I started toward him, then stopped. "I should wash my hands first. I'm pretty sure the last thing you need is rosin and cat hair in your head." In his bathroom, I took time to pee, and to splash water on my face, as well. Then I returned to the main room, and stood behind him. "Okay, tell me what to do."

He talked me through it in the same matter-of-fact tone I heard him use three days a week when he taught advanced mathematics. Press to open a small panel above, and slightly behind his left ear. Count the rows of blinking red and green lights to find the socket. Use the pincers to pick up and insert the data solid - smaller end goes down. Have a minor freak-out when the lights change colors.

I tried to pretend it was commonplace to open the head of the man you kind of, maybe, love…or at least might love _someday_. In the end, I got through it by pretending I was playing one of those "Operation" games where you have to use a fake medical tricorder and brightly colored tongs to put a stylized plastic patient's parts back in order. Except that, at least, had a buzzer for if you messed up. "All done."

"Thank you, Zoe." There was a _whirr-click_ as he reached back to close the panel in his head, and then he spoke again, in the most…computerish…voice I'd ever heard him use. "Accessing."

"Data?"

"Accessing," he repeated.

I had no idea if his behavior was normal, but it was absolutely creeping me out. I left him behind his desk, and went to sit on the couch. I could watch him from there.

"Accessing…"

After ten minutes had passed, I wondered if I should call Geordi. After twenty minutes had gone by I regretted having left my padd at home. After thirty minutes I just stretched out on the couch. At some point I fell asleep.

**(=A=)**

I woke to the comforting weight of a uniform jacket on top of me, and the equally comforting aroma of mint tea. The room lights were slightly dimmed. "Data?"

"Here," he said. He was sitting in one of his straight-backed chairs, but he'd moved it near the couch – watching me. "Are you alright?"

I sat up. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I am functioning within norma –" he began, but stopped himself when he saw the look I was giving him. "I am fine," he amended.

"And the data solid?"

"I am still assimilating the information stored upon it. Lore's encryption codes presented a stimulating challenge. So far, I have discovered fragments of several memories from my initial activation, as well as my father's final will."

_Stimulating? That can't be good. _

"Sorry I fell asleep on you. What time is it? Does my mother know where I am?" I noticed something gleaming on the coffee table, and realized he'd removed the collar-pips and comm-badge before he'd covered me with his jacket.

"It is nearly sixteen hundred hours," he said. Vague time estimates were something he'd begun offering when we were alone and the precise minutes and seconds didn't matter. "Your mother is aware that you are helping me with a personal project."

"You made tea."

"I assumed it would be welcome."

"It is," I said, reaching for the cup he'd clearly meant for me. "Thank you."

"It is the least I could do, pigeon."

I nearly dropped the cup. "What did you call me?" As it was, the hot liquid splashed onto my hand, and I hissed in momentary pain.

"I called you 'pigeon'. Are not affectionate nicknames appropriate between close friends? Do you not like it?"

"'Pigeon' is Lore's name for me," I said. "Data, are you sure you're alright?"

"Of course," he said. He left his chair and came to sit on the couch with me. "You have injured your hand."

"It's nothing," I said, but he took the tea cup away from me, and drew my hand into his. I shivered, but it was because everything felt weird. I mean, we'd reached for each other's hands dozens – maybe hundreds – of times, but it had never felt wrong before. "Really, I've had worse. This one time, when I was about five, I managed to pull a coffee urn –"

"Shhh." He hushed me, and then bent his head to my hand, placed a kiss there. His free hand lifted my chin, but I didn't see my friend in that pale, gold face. I saw a leer that was all too familiar. "Hello, pigeon," Lore's voice, Data's mouth. He brushed his thumb over my cheek. "Data's still here…I'm just an echo…just taking him out for a spin. Think he'd mind if you joined me?"

The leer turned into an expression that could only be described as panic - "_Data_?!" – but then it was gone, and the cruel smile that was pure Lore had returned. I should have tried to pull away, I suppose, but somehow, I knew that doing so would end up being…dangerous. Instead, I moved closer. _This isn't Data, not entirely. It's not really Lore either. Overshadowing, maybe? Software…it's just software. A glitch. What do you do when software's glitching, Zoe? Oh, god. Oh…shit! Ohgodohgodohgod! _ I turned my hand in his, laced our fingers together, moved close enough to lean my head on his shoulder. _I don't want to have to do this. Oh, god. _

"Oh, little pigeon's come home to roost." The words were smug, dark, dangerous. _Not Data. _

Apparently that chip had enough of Lore's…essence…in it that when I moved closer, he – they? Data? - responded. He lowered his head to mine, nuzzled my hair. _Don't kiss me, please don't kiss me. Not now. Not when you're not…you. _I lifted my free hand to the back of his neck, traced an abstract pattern there. Would he remember this…after? Did I want him to? I wasn't sure. _I shouldn't be enjoying this_, I thought, but it was the first time I'd really touched him. _Does this make me as bad as Lore? _

_"Do it!" _I felt, more than heard, the words ghost across the top of my head. I let my hand trail down his back. Found the switch. Pressed.

Watching the life drain out of someone you care about is horrifying.

Knowing it was by your hand – even when you also know it's reversible – is a thousand times worse. If I could have disappeared right then, I would have.

Shivering – I was either in shock or the room was suddenly chilly - I pulled Data's jacket on over the tank top I'd worn back when the only thing I'd planned to do that day was a music lesson. It was huge on me, but surprisingly comfortable. I knew he'd probably find it inappropriate, when he was…himself…again, but I figured he owed me one. Or fifty. Then I called Geordi. "I'm in Data's quarters, and we…we did something stupid, and I need your help," I said once he'd answered my signal.

"On my way," he said. I was pretty sure he'd started running before he'd even closed the channel.

**(=A=)**

I was still wrapped in Data's uniform, still huddled on the couch opposite him in a grim, alternate version of our usual seating arrangements, when Geordi arrived. The door, I noted, didn't automatically open for him, but apparently I could authorize entry. I made a mental note to ask about that – it hadn't occurred to me before.

"Are you alright?" Geordi's first words were to check on me. God, he was such a nice guy.

"I'm…I don't know." I said. "He showed me how to…and I didn't think…I was caught up in _him_…and then…"

"Why'd you do it, Zoe?" he asked quietly.

I couldn't say 'turn him off,' or 'shut him down.' "Why did I deactivate him, or why did I do what you wouldn't?"

"Both, I guess. Which panel?" He had Data more or less upright, and was leaning over the arm of the couch to reach our friend's head. "I mean, I know what he's like when he's chasing down a piece of information, but I would have thought with everything you've been through…"

I described which panel we'd used, but in my head I was trying to form an answer that made sense. My own voice sounded lower than usual, at least to my own ears. Older, somehow. "With everything I've been through…is it so surprising I want answers just as badly as he does? Except…I don't even really know what the questions are."

"He should have killed him when he had the chance," Geordi said.

We both knew he meant that Data should have killed Lore.

"I don't think he could have," I said. I wasn't sure how I knew that; I just did. "I don't think he could kill Lore any more than he could kill you…" _Or me,_ I didn't add, even though I was sure it was true.

"Yeah…" He had his own set of pincers, I noted, in a pouch on his belt. He pulled the data solid free from its socket. "I should destroy this…vaporize it…"

"But you won't."

"No." He set the chip in a container on Data's desk, then returned to close the access panel. "Before we bring him back," Geordi said. "Tell me what happened?"

I did.

"Sounds like it was a personality overlay," the engineer said. "Damn it, Data!" He addressed the still-inactive android. "Why can't you ever just let it go? Why do you have to charge ahead so ruthlessly in your endless desire to _know_ things?"

"When Dr. Soong picked his name, he was more accurate than he knew," It was a random observation, and I said it without thinking.

Geordi turned his VISORed eyes toward me. "Dr. Soong didn't name him, Zoe."

"He didn't?"

"Uh-uh. Data's name was self-chosen. You didn't know?"

I shook my head. "It's never really come up." I glanced at Data, felt self-conscious wearing his jacket without permission, not that Geordi had commented about it. "Is it weird that I'm angry at him?"

"For not telling you about his off-switch before?"

"Well, that…but also for putting me through this. I mean…poking in his head was one thing, but then…_having_ to turn him off. Oh, god." I ran my hands through my hair, mussing my pony tail and not caring. "Did I do the right thing? I mean…he sort of told me to, but…"

"You didn't have much of a choice, Zo'," Geordi said. In the middle of everything it registered that he'd shortened my name.

"No…none I could see."

"You're damn lucky he let you do it."

"I know," I said. "Do you want me to leave before you…'bring him back'?"

The engineer paused and stared at me. "Would you rather not be here?"

"I don't know. It's…what if he's still…?"

"Hang on." He tapped his comm-badge. "LaForge to Counselor Troi."

\- _Troi here. Is something wrong, Geordi?_

"I'm with Zoe in Data's quarters. There's been an…incident. I know it's your weekend but…"

\- _It's fine, Geordi. What do you need?_

"Do you mind if I send her over for a few minutes. We'll let you know when she should return."

\- _Not at all. _If the counselor thought Geordi was being cryptic, she didn't let on. _I'll be waiting for her. Troi out. _

"You'll call me, when he's…better?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay." I left the couch, and moved past him, pausing at the door to glance back at Data, who still looked more like a mannequin or a corpse than the person I was familiar with, but just as I was leaving a thought struck me. "Geordi…does Lore…does he have a power switch, too?"

"Yeah, he does," Geordi said. "Why?"

"No reason," I said.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44842.98**

**(Saturday, 4 November 2367, 16:33 hours, ship's time)**

Counselor Troi was waiting in her open doorway when I got to her quarters. She didn't speak, just took one look at me, and drew me into a hug. She held me for several minutes, then led me into her personal space. Only after I was sitting in a comfortable chair with a mug of hot chocolate did she comment on my attire.

"Interesting outfit."

I had nearly forgotten I was still wearing Data's borrowed (_stolen?) _uniform top. "What, this old thing?" I joked, but my humor fell flat. My heart wasn't in it. "I woke up on his couch with this over me, and after…after I did what I did…I was cold, and it was there, and I didn't think I should leave him that way."

Her neutral expression eased into one of sympathy and concern. I don't know what she was sensing from me, but I felt completely muddled – scared, angry, heartbroken, embarrassed – "What did you do, Zoe?"

"I…" I swallowed some of the chocolate, and didn't care that it singed my throat on the way down. "I turned him off."

To her credit, she didn't immediately call security. Instead she took several cleansing breaths, and went to replicate a second hot chocolate for herself. "I think you'd better start at the beginning."

I explained what I'd walked in on that morning, how I didn't think it was a good idea, and had stretched my lesson out as long as possible. How I'd caved and installed the data solid, after all.

"That must have been difficult," she said. "Seeing inside Data's head."

"It's weird. That first time, when he was tinkering with his arm…it felt like I hadn't earned that level of intimacy. But today? I was more concerned that I might…break him."

"I'm sure he ensured that you couldn't."

"Yeah. I mean…he was incredibly specific about talking me through it, which helped, but…actually it was kind of cool. And…I felt like it was kind of an honor, that he'd even trust me to do it." I hesitated. "I don't think I ever realized before today that Data can be manipulative, when he chooses."

"Does that frighten you?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not that. It's more…We see him as this nice, mild mannered guy. It never occurred to me before today that he has an act, too. That a lot of the way he presents himself is so that we don't perceive him as a threat."

Her expression darkened, and I didn't know if I'd misspoken, or if there was something else. "That's…an interesting theory," she said.

I shrugged. "I could be completely wrong. I mean, he and I have talked about masks before, about the way everyone changes their public persona, adapting to different situations."

"Do you and Data often have such philosophical discussions?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's all music. Sometimes it's picking apart the plots of videos. We've been broadening our subject matter lately."

"I'm not surprised. Music and math class may have brought you into each other's spheres, but you wouldn't still be spending so much time together if that's all you had."

"I don't think I can be his student anymore," I said. I wasn't sure where the thought had come from.

"Zoe?"

"I always thought that when people talked about crossing lines, they meant sex. But today…he put me in a situation where I had to turn him off. He convinced me to put that…thing…in his head, and I did it, so it's not like I'm not as much to blame – I _could_ have refused."

"Why didn't you?"

I looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. "Because I wanted to know, too. Geordi was angry with Data about putting knowledge before anything, but…I wanted to know what Lore wanted, probably just as badly, maybe more. And…I mean, if it's hard for me to deal, because I'm lusting after Data…"

"It's lust now, is it?" she interrupted, teasing me, a little.

I blushed. "Well, not _really_, but…he's so different when he's not buried in…in this…" I held up my mustard-clad arms to illustrate my point. "But that's not really the point. Lore is all he has. I mean…he has all of us, but it's not the same. Lore is the closest thing he has to a blood relation."

"You've thought about this a lot," the counselor observed.

"I've had to," I said. "Data…Data doesn't always understand my jokes, but he gets me in a way no one else does. How could I _not_ do the work to meet him half way?"

"But you don't want to learn from him anymore?" She seemed confused.

"No. I don't want to…can't be…his _student_ any more. Too much has happened between us – nothing physical – but, going back to what I said before…there are other ways we've crossed lines. The things I've gone through today…watching Lore's personality emerge – he called me _pigeon_ – having to do what I did. Seeing his personality – his whole self - go down the drain when I flipped the switch."

"But you're in his math tutorial."

"I know," I said. "With music…it's not a required class, and it's more like a partnership anyway. But in his class…I don't know, maybe if someone else graded my work?"

"It's something you should probably bring up with Data, if you want to continue your relationship with him."

"You're not calling it a friendship anymore," I observed.

"Is it?"

"Only a friendship? No…it's definitely more…but…it's not really anything else, either. God, this would be so much easier if I were older."

"Well, that will happen in time."

"I wish it could happen faster." I finished the no-longer-hot chocolate in my mug, and then I asked her, "I have to tell him that I'm angry, don't I?"

"'Have to,' isn't quite the phrase I'd use."

"What is?"

"'Should.'"

I laughed. "Yeah, okay, that's fair."

Her door-signal chimed and she called out for whomever was there to enter. We were both expecting Geordi, but it was Data, dressed in a fresh uniform (bling and all) and seeming a bit more subdued than was usual. "Counselor," he greeted, "Geordi said I would find Zoe here. May I see her?"

The counselor glanced at me, but I was already unfolding my crossed legs, and getting out of her chair. "I'm right here," I said. "I'll join you, if you want?"

"Please," he said mildly.

I flashed Counselor Troi a grateful look and went to have the conversation that would either make or break whatever it was Data and I had.

**(=A=)**

"Have you eaten today?" Data asked as we re-entered his quarters. He'd taken time to put away the music stands and prop my cello against the wall, I saw.

It wasn't a question I had been expecting. "What? Oh…not since…not since breakfast this morning."

"Will you eat something before we have our talk?"

"Why do I feel like you're about to –" I almost said 'break up with me' but if we weren't just friends anymore we certainly weren't a couple either "- end our…friendship?"

"I have no such desire," he said. "However, Geordi informed me that you are feeling emotionally vulnerable, and my own experience with you has shown that your responses tend to be erratic when your blood glucose levels are low."

I shrugged, "I guess I could eat. You're probably right that I should. You usually are." It came out as a grumble, proving his point.

"Please sit. I will bring food to you." He nudged me toward the couch, rather than the table, joining me a few minutes later with a tray containing macaroni and cheese and a glass of ice water with lemon. "I believe you have referred to this dish as 'comfort food,'" he said. He sat down next to me, and gave me an appraising look. "You are wearing my uniform."

"Only part of it," I said between bites of cheesy pasta. "I was freezing, and I didn't think I should leave you…like that…and you'd already removed all the jewelry."

"Jewelry?"

"Your pips and comm-badge."

"Ah." He took a beat, then added, "It 'looks good' on you."

I nearly aspirated macaroni. "Don't get any ideas. I still have zero interest in the Academy. This is the closest thing to any kind of uniform you'll _ever_ see me wear."

"I have never disagreed with your assessment of your lack of suitability to a Starfleet career. I merely meant that there is a degree of aesthetic appeal to the image of you in my jacket."

"I guess it's a day for crossing lines," I said. "Maybe we should mark it on the calendar, and avoid it next year."

"I do not understand."

I rolled my eyes. "It's a…thing. Women wearing their…you know, you can ask Geordi about this one. I'm not entirely comfortable explaining it. Not today, anyway." _Especially not today. _I finished the food he'd given me, and then I scooted back into the corner of his couch. Comfort in familiarity, and all that. "I'm ready to talk now," I said. "But you should know that I'm really angry with you."

He gave me a nod of acknowledgement. "I should not have asked you to install Lore's data solid," Data said, matter-of-factly.

"No, you shouldn't have," I agreed. "And I shouldn't have agreed to do it. We crossed a line, Data." I said to him what I'd already said to the counselor. "I always thought that the line between friends and…and more…was all about sex. But today…today we crossed another kind of line, and I wasn't ready for it. You put me in the position of deactivating you."

"Zoe…"

"No, let me finish. Installing the data solid? I knew it was a bad idea, but I wanted to know what was on it as badly as you did. Maybe even more so. I mean, I know Lore's your brother, but _I'm_ the one he violated. Even so, the actual act…even though I knew it was wrong, I was kind of…honored…that you asked me to do it. That you trusted me to."

I saw his brow rise slightly in reaction to that, but all he said was, "Please go on."

"Showing me your off-switch…I'm guessing you don't give that information to just anyone?"

"No."

"Showing me, and then putting me in a position to have to use it…it's more intimate than anything else we've shared. Data, you put your _life_ in my hands, and then you made me have to take it away. I'm not…I can't handle that responsibility and then sit in your class and worry over whether or not I'll pass the next pop quiz. If we're going to keep exploring…whatever this is…whatever we are…I can't be your student anymore."

"What do you wish me to say?"

"I don't know. Tell me I'm not imagining that the slow trajectory we talked about is getting faster. Tell me that when you kiss the top of my head, or play with my hair, or hold my hand that it actually _means_ something. Tell me…" I stopped, and stared at him for a long moment, and then I couldn't help it. I had to _do _something.

I got off the couch, took my used dishes to the replicator, and returned, but I didn't go back to my spot, I stood in front of him.

He lifted his eyes to meet mine, confusion evident on his face. "Zoe?" He made my name a question, or maybe it was several questions, or even several thousand.

"Stand up," I said. "Please?"

He was still obviously confused, but he complied. "Zoe, are you alright?"

"No," I said. "But I will be."

I rested both my hands against his chest, and when he looked down at them, as I knew he would, I made my move, rising onto my toes to press a tentative kiss to his lips. He pulled back slightly, opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head. "No more talking." My lips met his again, less tentatively, and this time, just as when I'd kissed him back in September to get that data solid out of my tongue, he responded, moving his mouth against mine, deepening the kiss.

Our tongues met, and I tasted that same sweet nuttiness…or maybe it was a nutty sweetness. I'd thought the hint of cashew was from the food we'd eaten, that night, but now I knew it was just him.

His right hand went to my waist, beneath his open uniform jacket that I was still wearing. His left hand released my hair from its elastic band and then tangled into it. I paused a moment for breath, and then recaptured his mouth.

I was almost out of breath again when his left hand joined his right at my waist, and held me at arms' length. "Zoe, we must stop." Android strength. Barely any pressure. I couldn't have closed the distance if I'd tried.

"Data?" It was my turn to be confused.

"We cannot continue this."

"Why?" I demanded. "You didn't stop me in September. You didn't stop me five minutes ago, why now? If it was because of my age, your ethics program would have kicked in. Is it your rank? Is it something else?'

"While you are correct about my ethics program, and the other two items are valid points to consider, we must stop because of your mother."

"What?" He was still holding me, but let go when I squirmed. "What does my mother have to do with anything? She knows I spend time with you. She knows what we've been…exploring."

"When you were away this summer, I promised your mother I would not allow things to progress beyond a certain point before you were eighteen."

"What?! You promised _what_? No progression beyond a certain point? What point, Data? You can kiss me on the head, but not the lips? I can hold your hand in private, but I can't touch you?"

"I believed it to be a safe promise to make. Zoe, when you left, our relationship, while intimate in its way, was considerably less so. If you will be calm I will relay the entire conversation." Yes, and he'd probably do it in my mother's own voice, too.

"I'm not sure which is worse…that you discussed…us…with my mother when there wasn't even an 'us' to discuss, or that you made a promise involving my life, or that you didn't tell me." I shook my head. "I can't…any other day – night – I've lost all track of time –"

"It is nearly twenty hundred hours," he supplied helpfully.

"_Data!_"

"I should have discussed it with you," he agreed. "I did not…I was wary about attempting to define our relationship."

"I have to go." I moved toward the door, stopped, and moved back to pack my cello into its gig bag. "I can't…I can't be here right now. I have to go." I couldn't get the gig bag unzipped, so just picked up my cello. I'd get the bag later. Tomorrow. When I could think.

"Allow me to help you," he offered, and stepped toward me.

I hadn't planned to throw my cello at him. I hadn't even realized you _could_ throw a cello, what with their complete lack of aerodynamic design. But I did. Or maybe it flew, because suddenly my hands were empty, and he had caught it.

It's a strange thing, to see a normally placid, allegedly emotionless android with an expression of stunned confusion.

I couldn't help it. I used the opportunity to leave.

It isn't technically fleeing if you're not actually running, is it?

* * *

**Notes: **Faure's Pavane Op. 50 is one of those pieces recorded by pretty much every instrument ever. There is a version for violin and cello, and if I haven't already added it to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube playlist, I will do so later today. As I'm writing this we're in (another) severe thunderstorm, and the power keeps flickering. Data's off-switch is first mentioned in the episode _DataLore_. His name being self-chosen is in the novelization of the ST:TNG pilot episode _Encounter at Farpoint_, but I can't remember if it's in the aired version, and I didn't bother re-watching that episode to confirm. For those who read _Auld Lang Syne_ before I took it down for revisions, yes, this is the cello-throwing incident. There's one more chapter before I repost part one.


	13. Endurance

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine._**

* * *

**Endurance**

**Stardate 44845.88**

**(Sunday, 5 November 2367, 17:56 hours, ship's time)**

There are times in your life when change seems to take forever to come…when you're wishing for your first kiss, or first period, for example, or when you're counting the days until you get to start high school and put middle school behind you. There are other times when change comes at you with all the subtlety of a Klingon battle cruiser, firing at you from what feels like a million directions, all at once.

Translation: That Saturday, when I'd walked into Data's quarters expecting my usual morning of music and mild flirting, I'd still been a kid. Not a child…but, a kid.

By the end of the day, after seeing (literally) inside his head, after having to deactivate him, after sharing a really satisfying kiss, and then after his revelation that he'd promised my mother he wouldn't touch me, I wasn't a kid any more. Somewhere in that day, the last of my childhood had oozed out of me. I expect it was in a puddle under Data's coffee table. I wondered if it would stain.

The day after That Saturday was an all-day tech rehearsal for _Romeo and Juliet_. As had become my habit, I kept offering breath mints to my Romeo, Ethan Lovejoy. The dark-haired, blue-eyed ensign was just on the verge of being pretty rather than handsome, and I couldn't deny that his performance was natural, and that we played well against either other, but his breath…his breath could have slayed an entire army of Borg.

Around six that evening, Dr. Crusher finally released us. "Don't over rehearse between now and Thursday," she reminded us. "And remember – limit your dairy intake, drink plenty of water, and get lots of rest."

Just before eight – twenty-hundred hours, in Starfleet parlance - I was outside Data's door. I wasn't wearing my comm-badge, which meant I had to use the annunciator.

"Come in," came his familiar, pleasant invitation. I walked through the door, to find him sitting behind his. console. "Zoe," he said. "I was not expecting you. I am afraid I am due to meet Geordi in engineering shortly, and then I must take command of the bridge for the night watch. Perhaps it would be better if we met before or after class tomorrow."

"I won't _be_ in class tomorrow," I said, cutting him off. I laid the bundle of folded cloth I'd been holding on the desk in front of him. "I just wanted to return this. I didn't mean to abscond with it."

"I did not mind," he said, unfolding it, recognizing it as his uniform jacket, and refolding it in a slightly different configuration. "As to class…"

"Don't, please? I know I need an upper level math credit. I'll figure something out with Ms. Phelps, but I meant it when I said I couldn't be your student anymore. And it's not just because - because we kissed again – it's everything. Too much has happened, and we can't go backward."

"I understand," he said. "You will be missed in class, though."

"You're going to be 'missing' me on Thursday evenings and Saturday mornings as well," I said. "For a while."

"Zoe…?" He'd managed to find an inflection of my name that conveyed both disappointment and lack of understanding, and it hurt me to hear it.

"I've been snapping at people, snarking more than is normal – even for me – for a while now. You know my yelling at Jenna that night wasn't exactly in character. Even before yesterday I've been…there are things involving everything that happened in February and over the summer, that I haven't resolved, and I need to spend some extra time with Counselor Troi working on them. I've been spending so much time with you, where I feel so safe, so cared for, so at home, that I've been able to bottle things up, but even you have admonished me about that."

"I had noticed that your moods were becoming increasingly unpredictable," he admitted. "I am glad you are seeking the assistance of Counselor Troi. If yesterday exacerbated anything..." he trailed off.

"It did, and it didn't. Eventually, we'll talk about it, but right now, I need to step back from so much intense time with you, and focus on _me_ for a while. I don't expect you to ignore me in the corridors, or anything, I just…need a break from all our 'regularly scheduled' activities."

His soft reply of "As you wish," nearly tore me in half, but then he surprised me by stepping around the console and pulling me into a hug, then kissing the top of my head.

I let myself enjoy being in his arms, surrounded by his reassuring solidity, and then I pulled away. "I should go now. I'll see you…"

"I will see you on Thursday before curtain," he said, "if not before."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44865.70**

**(Sunday, 12 November 2367, 23:35 hours, ship's time) **

For the next week, I spent two hours a day in sessions with Counselor Troi, some with Mom present, some not, and I was starting to feel less fearful about any further encounters with Lore. Deanna knew, though my mother did not, that knowing where Lore's off-switch was located had been incredibly helpful. Data was right in his assertion that I would likely not survive an attempt to deactivate his dark twin, but knowing it was possible was enough.

By the time the closing night of _Romeo and Juliet_ had arrived, I was already missing my usual one-on-one time with Data so much that there was an almost physical _itch_. Oh, we'd talked a little bit backstage – he seemed incredibly concerned (especially for him) with my well-being – but nothing real or meaningful.

I tried to catch up with him, at least for a few minutes at the cast party, but it was nearly midnight before I'd managed to extricate myself from Ethan's presence, as well as that of the apparently unending stream of people who came up to me to compliment my performance. "You were so natural. Are you planning to continue acting in college?" was the common refrain. By the time I was finally free, and had joined Mom and Ed, Counselor Troi and Commander Riker, Dr. Crusher, and Geordi at a table – Captain Picard had actually given me his chair as he excused himself – Data had already gone.

"He's not avoiding you," Guinan said, coming up behind me during a lull in the conversation.

"Excuse me?"

"Data. He isn't avoiding you. He's been doing night watch on the bridge all week, but it was scheduled before whatever happened between you. He wanted to speak with you tonight, but people kept commanding his attention…or yours."

"I haven't been intentionally avoiding him, either," I told her. "I mean, I have, but…"

"No," she said. "You aren't avoiding him, you're merely taking a break. He told me. He misses you, you know." She raised her voice to address the table at large, "Do you mind if I join you?" No one did. She sat down next to me, but directed her next statement to Dr. Crusher, who was further away. "I think it would be interesting to cast Zoe and Data against each other in the next production."

I knew I was goggling at her, and I didn't care, but it was the doctor's response that surprised me even more. "Actually, I've been thinking about doing just that. Data's acting has improved a lot recently, and Zoe, you're always so comfortable on stage…"

"We have completely different acting styles," I protested, mostly because I didn't want them to notice the color I could feel rising to my cheeks. _Cast against Data? That would be…dangerous. And interesting. And fun. _

"Oh, that doesn't matter," the doctor said. "You're going away for the December holidays, aren't you?" We'd all been talking about how the various winter holidays were getting closer.

"Back to Centaurus, so I can be there when my new sibling arrives," I confirmed. "But I'll be back here by the middle of January, when the new semester starts."

"Hmm. I'll give it some thought. I might not even hold auditions for the principals, just cast based on availability. Geordi, you really should join us."

"I'm not the theatrical type," he said. "Really."

Ed and Beverly both began to work on him, convincing him otherwise, and I turned back to Guinan. "You didn't have to do that," I said.

"Do what?" she asked in that tone that combined mystique and innocence. "I think the two of you would play well opposite each other." She paused. "Of course, first you have to talk to each other, which is why I'm reminding you: he misses you…" She stretched out another pause. "Trust your connection to him."

_But he __**broke **__my trust_, I didn't say. Instead I just nodded and told her, "I'll try."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44866.90**

**(Monday, 13 November 2367, 10:04 hours, ship's time) **

The morning after the play, I left messages with my friends that I'd meet them in one of the lower decks mess halls for lunch, but that I still wouldn't be in Data's class. That was the morning Geordi dropped by to see me.

"Hey, Zo'," he greeted, the too-casual phrasing belied by the serious expression on his face. "Data asked me to bring this by for you," He retrieved my cello – in its gig bag – from where he'd leaned it against the bulkhead wall. "Mind if I come in?"

I shrugged, "I don't see how one truant student merits the attention of the chief engineer, but sure."

"Truant?" he asked, coming all the way into our living space, and holding out my cello. "We both know you're only skipping one class, and we both know why."

I took the instrument from him, and set it against the wall outside my bedroom door. "If it matters, I've been getting his homework assignments from my friends. I've even been completing them. I just haven't been turning them in." I'd been planning to speak with Ms. Phelps about turning them into a sort of independent study project, but hadn't gotten around to actually asking her.

"I figured as much."

"I'm that predictable? Even to people who barely know me?"

"Only in that you don't want to disappoint him." We both knew who 'him' referred to. It didn't require explanation.

"Did you really come all the way here just to deliver my cello? He could have asked me to come get it, or brought it here himself, or handed it off to my mother."

"Yeah, he could've," Geordi allowed. "But since I was coming down here anyway…"

"Wait…you were?" I felt like I was missing something.

"I've been reminded that I never followed through on the flitter lessons I promised for your birthday…and as your _next_ birthday is creeping up on us…just a couple months now, isn't it?"

"A little over two," I confirmed. "I didn't follow up, either, though."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Any particular reason why not?"

"I guess I felt…I don't know…you went out of your way to make me feel included when he was…missing…that time, and you're always really nice to me, but I'm never sure if that's just you, or if you mean it."

"Haven't you heard? I'm the nicest guy on the ship. Unless you mis-calibrate a warp coil. Then I get tetchy."

"Tetchy? Really?" But I couldn't help grinning. And the truth was, flitter lessons would be better than moping around my quarters three mornings a week. "Okay, so, when do we start?"

"I'm free now," he said, matching my grin. "If you are."

"Give me five minutes to fix my hair and change shoes?" I asked. I was still wearing fuzzy bedroom slippers, even though I was otherwise dressed. "I mean, if you're really not too busy and important?" I used a posh British accent for the last four words.

He chuckled his reply: "Not at all."

**(=A=)**

"Okay, Zo', this is your basic atmospheric flitter cockpit. Commercially available vehicles, like what you'll be flying, are a little shinier – more comfort features – but they all fly the same. Or drive, in your case, since we're going to start with ground-mode. You ever been in a ground car?"

"Not a car exactly," I said. "When I wasn't touring with Dad, I was living on a farm. Farm kids get licensed for ground vehicles at fourteen on Centaurus. Mostly, I drive our Subaru Off-worlder, but I _learned_ on a vintage nineteen-sixty-six Ford F-100 pickup truck."

His eyebrows lifted over his VISOR. "Nineteen-sixty-six? That's pre-Eugenics War. How is it even running? How did your family get it to Centaurus?"

"_Please_. If you know the right people and have enough cash, you can get anything anywhere…or you could when Centaurus was first being developed. The Harrises are one of the Founding Families, you know."

"I can see that," he drawled thoughtfully. "Those were internal combustion machines, weren't they?"

"Were. Are. Gran has a guy whose whole job is taking care of Bertha."

"Bertha?"

"The truck. Its name – her name? – is Bertha. Apparently there's a tradition of naming pickup trucks. Anyway, the _Enterprise_ has you; Bertha has Sven."

"I'm still trying to imagine you behind the controls – wait, those just had a steering wheel, right? - behind the wheel of a…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

I laughed. "It gets better." I made my voice sexy and flirtatious, but in an obviously teasing way. "I'm probably the only sixteen-year-old you know, who knows how to drive...stick."

As I'd hoped, he burst out laughing. "Are you like this around Data?" he asked when his laughter had subsided.

"I'm like this around _everyone_ I'm comfortable with," I said. "Including Data…and before you ask, yes, most of the time, he gets it. He doesn't laugh, obviously, but…sometimes there's a hint of something in his eyes, or in his face."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." He took a beat then refocused his attention on the controls of the holographic flitter. "Okay, Zo', let's do this."

Geordi was a patient teacher, and I was motivated to learn, so we completed my first lesson in ground mode, and even did the first step of flight mode – a vertical take-off and landing with zero forward momentum - and I didn't crash the simulator once.

Before we left the holographic flitter, though, the engineer grew serious again. "Look, Zoe…you should talk to Data. He told me how you left things the other night."

The smile I'd been wearing for the duration of our lesson softened. "I knew you weren't _just_ stopping by to honor a months-old birthday promise." I wasn't angry. I'd known from the moment of his arrival at my door that he'd been sent to check on me.

"Actually, I was," he said. "But I was _also _checking on you because you're the woman my best friend is in a relationship with."

"Am I?" I asked, with no malice, just naked confusion. "I mean…is that what Data and I have? A capital-R relationship?"

"You know you do."

"I've been trying to convince everyone – including him – including _myself_ – that it's just a crush for so long… The truth is, it hasn't been just that for a long time, but there's still a lot of distance between 'want' and 'have,' and…I'm not entirely sure how to navigate it…with him."

"You could try telling him that," Geordi said. "Try navigating it together." He hesitated for a few seconds before adding, "You could also try learning to be angry with him without running away." The engineer sighed. "Listen, I'm the last person who should be giving relationship advice, but it seems like you two have talked about everything but exactly what you are to each other."

"He said he didn't want to define anything." I said. "He also said we weren't in a race and didn't have a deadline, and maybe that _was _true, before…everything…but now? Now everything's different and I don't want to put him in a position of having to reject me."

Inexplicably, he began to laugh.

"What?"

"You two…you two really are perfect for each other."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean it. You both see everything in black and white. He thinks when you run it's because you don't want to be around him, and you think your relationship has to be all yes or all no."

"And what do you think?"

"I think you need to talk to him. And listen to him."

I stared across the cockpit at the latest in my growing posse of unofficial counselors. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Did he tell you what happened after Jenna broke up with him?"

I shook my head. "I only knew they'd ended it, and at the time, it wasn't appropriate to ask for details."

"He'd written a subroutine to handle their relationship, to help him find appropriate responses. When she ended it, he deleted the subroutine."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"So, what, if I don't go talk to him, he's going to delete me, too?"

"No. He can't."

"I'm sorry?" The cockpit was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Or I was beginning to feel so. "Why can't he?"

"Because, he…No. You know what? You'll have to ask him."

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that." I took a beat. "I promise I won't let it go much longer, okay? I mean…I miss him. Kind of a lot."

Geordi shook his head. "Okay."

I smiled. "Can we try that VTOL one more time?"

His laughter rang through the small space. "Sure, Zoe…sure…" But he hesitated before resetting the sim. "One more thing?"

"What's that, Geordi?"

"What color is the truck?"

My laughter was almost as loud as his had been. "Red, Geordi. Obviously."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44867.28**

**(Monday, 13 November 2367, 13:25 hours, ship's time) **

Life on a starship often follows the same patterns as life on an old-style film set: a lot of 'hurry up and wait.' The ship had been tasked with routine mapping and charting, checking of subspace buoys – what I referred to as 'the boring parts' for a couple of weeks, so it made sense that something was due to happen.

While I was at lunch with my friends, I learned that Data would be going on a brief away mission – one of those 'only an android can do this' sorts of assignments – and would be off the ship for several days.

\- _"I am hesitant to ask, because I do not know if this would infringe upon the 'break' that you requested, but would it be an inconvenience for you to look after Spot while I am gone?" _he had requested contacting me via comm-badge while my friends listened in on the conversation. _"She is always most receptive to your presence." _

I'd assured him that it wasn't.

_\- "I will send the details of when I expect to depart and return to your padd."_

"Sure, no problem."

_\- "Very well. Data out." _

Fortunately we had a class starting in five minutes, so there wasn't time for my friends to ask questions.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44873.63**

**(Wednesday, 15 November 2367, 21:00 hours, ship's time)**

"Enough!" Dana announced, shoving her padd away from her. She, Annette and I were studying for a lit test the next morning. "We've been at this for two hours, and I don't think I can hold another description of classic Vulcan poetry in my head."

"It _is_ getting late," Annette agreed. "Anyway, we have Zoe here captive, the boys are out doing…whatever…and I think it's time for some answers."

"Answers?" I asked, scooting backwards on Annette's bed until my back was against the bulkhead wall. We'd chosen to study in her bedroom rather than the family room to give her parents some space. "What answers?"

"Oh, I think you know, Zoe. First, you're not in our math tutorial anymore, then you're agreeing to babysit Commander Data's cat, even though it would 'infringe upon our break'? Zoe, _couples_ take breaks." This was from Dana, who was usually the mildest of all of us.

I had the decency to blush. "We are not a couple."

"What about every Thursday night? His quarters? _Videos?_" Annette ticked each item off on her fingers. "Hon, you have a standing date with him. You're a couple."

"That's not true," I said softly. "At least…I don't think it is…but would it be so horrible if it was? I mean, yeah, he's almost thirty, and he's a line officer…but it's _Data_."

Annette moved so she was sitting next to me, her back against the bulkhead, as well. "If it were anyone else," she said, "It would be creepy and weird and a thousand kinds of wrong, but, it's Data, like you said, and we all know normal rules don't apply."

"Is this why you're not in class?" Dana asked. She wasn't on the bed, but had been lying on her stomach on the floor, her feet kicked up behind her. As she spoke, she sat up, and faced us. "Because you're in a relationship now?"

"We're not in a relationship," I said quickly. "At least, not the way you mean. I'll confess to wanting one, but…this is about something else…a personal project. God! Why couldn't I fall for Ethan or Ray or even Rryl? It'd be so much easier."

"For the same reason you only wear vintage clothes and think of your comm-badge as a leash," Dana said softly. "You don't blend. You couldn't if you tried."

I shrugged. "Sure I could…maybe…I never _have_ tried."

Annette and Dana shared a look that clearly meant they didn't believe I could ever blend in with anything. Finally Annette said, "You wouldn't be the first student on a starship to fall for an officer."

"What?"

"Oh, yeah, it made all the news nets when it happened. Remember a couple years ago when the _Yamato_ went missing? I had friends on board. Kelly and Kathleen Berkshire. Our fathers were on the _Ticonderoga _together a few years ago.

"Anyway, Kathleen's my age, so she would have been sixteen then…and there was this huge scandal when people found out she was sleeping with the ship's security chief. Kelly was sent home to live with her grandparents, and Kath…well, I'm pretty sure she died with everyone else."

"That's horrible," I said. "But, what's the object lesson here? If you fall for an officer, you end up dead?"

"Nooo," Annette replied. "Just…if we all heard about Kathleen, it stands to reason it happens more often than you think. I mean…consider…we don't have a lot of options, and all of us have spent time with the older cadets and junior officers…"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, okay, but just because it's happened before doesn't mean…and anyway, I still maintain we're not a couple."

"Keep telling yourself that, Zoe-dear," Dana sing-songed. "Hey, that means I get to ask – since you're _not_ part of a couple, why _didn't_ you get closer to Ethan? I mean…_Romeo and Juliet_. On the balcony. All those long hours of rehearsal. That bedroom scene…"

Dr. Crusher had followed the cinematic tradition of adding a little bit of steamy action just before the actual scene when Romeo leaves Juliet's bedroom. I'd been a little bit embarrassed at first, but Ethan had been surprisingly sensitive about it. "The truth?" I asked, making sure they wanted to know. "It will shatter all your illusions of the infamous 'Ensign Loverboy.'"

"Do tell," Dana encouraged.

"His breath is the most horrible substance ever smelled by a humanoid nose," I revealed. "I actually started hiding boxes of mints around the set so I could feed them to him before he kissed me."

My friends exchanged another look of disbelief. "You're just teasing us," Annette accused.

"I'm not; I swear." I said. "In fact, I have this theory that the real reason he's slept with almost every woman on the ship below the rank of full lieutenant is that his breath is so gross, no one will sleep with him a second time."

Annette hit me in the face with a pillow. "You're horrible!"

"Yes," I agreed, capturing the pillow from her hands and hitting her back. "But, I'm never boring."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44878.93**

**(Friday, 17 November 2367, 19:30 hours, ship's time) **

Two days later, my mother was on a date (and likely an overnight stay) with Ed, Dana and Josh were out being couply and cute, and Annette and I were in my room just hanging out. Actually at that moment, we were standing in front of my closet. "Wow, Zoe, you take 'casual' to new extremes," she said, viewing my collection of vintage tees, and jeans. "I can see why you want to update a little."

"More than a little, I guess? I mean, still no desire to join the masses and dress in jumpsuits and unitards all the time –"

"That's an exaggeration and you know it," Annette interrupted. She herself was wearing a cornflower blue v-neck tunic over a slim skirt, and she looked amazing. But then, she always looked amazing. "If it's about everything being so form-fitting, you should know that your jeans do nothing to hide your shape."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not. It's about self-expression. And…" I referred to a conversation we'd had a few days before. "And not blending."

"You could wear skirts."

"I am not a skirt-person. I mean…I play the cello…it's awkward. Anything long enough to keep me from flashing people would make me look dumpy and frumpy and boring."

"Stop fishing for compliments, hon. You know you're none of those things."

"I need to look…more mature," I said.

"Zoe?"

"I like my clothes, I'm comfortable in them. But they scream 'kid' and 'teenager' and I need to make my wardrobe a little more 'young adult.'"

"For Data?" She was teasing, but it stung a little.

"Not _just_ for Data," I said. "Because while we're not a couple _now_, I want there to be an option to go there in the future. And to do that I need him to see me as a woman and not a little girl. Actually, I need everyone to see me that way. Um…you won't repeat that, right?"

"Not a word," she said, and then continued, "Hon, no one thinks of you as a little girl. Definitely not Data…but not anyone else, either. Trust me. I was sitting in front of Ray Barnett and his friends at _Romeo and Juliet_, and, aside from Ray, it wasn't your acting skills they were talking about." She went to sit on my bed, leaving me to stare at my clothes alone. "Have you heard from T'vek lately?" she asked casually. Too casually.

"We chatted over subspace last week, but it was just catching up. Why?"

"You know the _Berlin _and the _Enterprise_ are going to be in pretty close proximity for the next little while – close enough to visit."

"And you're telling me this, why?" I pulled a white blouse out of the closet. No. Too virginal. I put it back, and chose a blue one. It was a keeper, and was moved to the front of the closet. "We broke up within weeks after he got PCS'd. He's been dating, like, three or four girls at a time."

"True," she said. "But you're still friends, aren't you? And T'vek had this way of shaking you up a little."

"I've been shaken up recently," I told her. Apparently Guinan didn't own the copyright on being cryptic. "Trust me, I've been shaken up a lot."

"Zoe…?" She trailed off, and was quiet for almost a minute. "Zoe…what's the truth? What's really going on with you and Data."

I joined her, sitting on my bed cross-legged and facing her. "You cannot – you _cannot_ tell _anyone_ about this. I mean it. This isn't our usual stuff about who likes whom and which of the boys makes the best pirate king – I still vote for Tev, by the way – it's…it's _real._"

"I promise," she said. "I absolutely promise."

"Okay," I said. "Do you remember how I was really spooked and strange when I got back from San Francisco?"

"You said you had a stalker."

"It's more than that. Back in February, when I disappeared on the space station? I was actually following someone I'd thought was Data, because we'd argued during my music lesson, and I wanted to apologize for being a brat. Except it wasn't Data…it was his brother, Lore."

"I'd heard he had an evil twin," Annette murmured. "Go on?"

So I told her about Lore kissing me and Lore stalking me and Lore finding me on my way home, and how - and why – I'd really pierced my tongue. And then I told her the rest…how I'd actually been staying with Data that first week back and –"

"Wait, you were living with him? I mean, _living_ with him?" she said. "Zoe…that's big."

"It wasn't like that. He doesn't sleep. Aside from his cat, I'm pretty sure I'm the ONLY person who's ever used his bed. By the way, did you know senior officers have water showers? Anyway, we spent a lot of time together…and in order to get…in order to get Lore's tongue stud out…"

"Oh, my god, you kissed Data!"

"He kissed me back," I said softly. "And since then we've been…I don't know, it's like we're doing this weird dance where one day we're really intimate, and the next day we back away – or I back away – and people like Geordi and Guinan and Counselor Troi keep telling me not to worry, and just to trust the connection we seem to have."

"_Do _have," she said. "We all see it." A light dawned in her eyes. "So, the reason you're not in class is because you two are…" She didn't finish her sentence, but her eyebrows lifted.

"We're _not,_" I insisted. "Actually, I don't know what we are. Counselor Troi said we should spend more time together doing public things so people get that we're just friends, except…"

"Something happened that shut the door on 'just friends,'" my friend guessed.

"Yeah. The Saturday before the play…" I told her the rest – not the intimate details, and certainly not the bit about Data having an 'off' switch – but enough. "And the thing is, even without having kissed him - again – too much has happened – I was tinkering in his _head_ – to go back and pretend to just be a student." I hesitated, "And then I told him I needed a break from…everything."

Annette moved on my bed and gathered me into a hug. "No wonder you've been moody and weird. You've been dealing with so much."

"I wanted to tell you all. I really did."

"No, I know. But you couldn't."

"You won't repeat it…"

"Of course not."

"I know this is going to sound really weird, Annette, but…I miss him."

"It's not weird," she said, and grinned. "Actually, I'm pretty sure he misses you, too."

"Oh, really?"

"Really," she said. "Hey, have I told you the latest news from Wes?"

We talked long into the night, replicating junk food at regular intervals. It felt good to have someone else in on the other life I was apparently living. It felt even _better_ to just hang out with a friend.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44891.12**

**(Wednesday, 22 November 2367, 06:15 hours, ship's time)**

The incessant pinging of the comm-system in our living room woke me hours before my alarm, and I raced to answer it before it woke Mom, as well, before I remembered she was already on duty. When I checked, it, though, it wasn't a live message, but a string of messages beginning with my test results from the college entrance exams, an invitation to a college fair the next week at Starbase 84, and whole library's worth of digital brochures from colleges and universities throughout the Federation.

I forwarded the results message to my entire family, the fair invitation to my mother, and, since I'd also had a message from Geordi cancelling flitter lessons that morning for 'personal reasons,' I picked up my cello and worked on that Faure Pavane that had been the last thing I'd played with Data. It was a haunting piece...full of longing and agony. I kept at it for about ninety minutes.

I spent the rest of the morning browsing through the brochures, killing the time until noon, and the weekly lunch in Ten-Forward with my friends, who had also received their exam results, and were uniformly miffed when I wouldn't share mine, explaining, "There's someone I have to tell first."

**(=A=)**

I went to my afternoon classes, met with Counselor Troi, and found myself, padd in hand staring at Data's door at about five-thirty that evening. I didn't know if he'd taken me off his privacy lock, or not, but the door opened for me when I reached for the door-chime, and Spot came zooming out, only to stop and weave between my feet when she realized who I was.

I bent down to scoop her into my arms – tricky, while still holding the padd – and carried her inside, calling, "Data? Are you here?"

There was no answer, and while the room was softly lit, the way he typically left it so that his cat wouldn't spend her days in total darkness, his console was shut down. As soon as the door _wooshed_ closed behind me, I let Spot jump back to the floor.

The scent of linseed oil filled the room, and the familiar lines of the space had been changed, altered, I realized, by at least a dozen canvases. Paintings. "Computer, increase room illumination to eighty percent of standard."

The lights came up and my breath went out of me, all at once, because they weren't Data's usual 'processing' paintings. They weren't people he'd lost, or struggled with, or couldn't save, or wanted to kill (but didn't). They were all…me.

The one still on the easel was me with my cello, looking up with a slightly annoyed expression, but the others…me as Juliet, me cuddling Spot…. All of them showed the softer side of me, but the one that really struck me was a painting of me sitting in the corner of his couch, my hair obviously damp, a cup of tea cradled in my hands…"Oh, god…" It was our very first video night, from that week in September. _I need a dose of normal_, I'd told him, and he'd given it to me, picking apart that film, keeping me distracted, making sure I felt safe and cared for.

The couch was obscured by the paintings, so I left my padd on his desk and sat on the floor, cross-legged. I knew I wasn't supposed to be there. I knew I was invading Data's privacy. _But I'm still on his privacy lock. _ I knew we still had a lot of work to figure out what we were and where we were going and how fast. In that moment, I didn't care.

I don't remember how long I sat on Data's floor. Probably, it was about an hour. He came home for Spot's feeding time, and found me there. "Zoe…?"

I didn't stand up, just looked up at him. "We all got our exam results today." I said. "I wanted you to be the first to know. I mean, my parents know, but…you're the first I don't share DNA with, and I came here to tell you, and when the door opened Spot came out, and then I saw…Is this how you see me?"

His answer was a simple, "Yes," delivered with a very slight widening of his eyes and lifting of his brows. He came closer, and extended a hand down toward me. I uncrossed my legs and let him help me up. "Do you like them?"

"Like them? Data, they're…they're amazing." I softened my tone. "_You're_ amazing." I hadn't let go of his hand. Or, actually, _he _hadn't let go of _mine_. "Promise me you'll do something with these? Show them, even if it's just in the next art show in the arboretum?"

"I will do so."

"Data…I _really_ can't be your student now."

"No," he agreed. "We have moved far beyond that dynamic."

"Pretty sure we shut the door on 'just friends,' as well."

"Because we are physically intimate." He made it a statement.

"No. Well…yes, but not _only_ that." I took a breath. "I mean, Data, those are not the paintings someone who's only a friend would ever do. I mean – there isn't one of them in which I'm anything but fully dressed, and yet, there's something really naked, and in most of them, it's obvious that I'm looking at you." I paused, then asked, "Could you move a couple of them, though, just so we can sit?"

He released my hand and went to move some of the paintings. I retrieved my padd and went to the replicator for two cups of lemon-mint tea, then went to my spot on the couch. Data came to join me a moment later.

"May I speak first?" he asked. I nodded, and he continued. "When I asked for your assistance with Lore's chip, I believed it to be a necessary act. I did not anticipate the distress I would cause you, or that events would cause me to betray your trust. I believe you know that I would not – indeed I _can_not – intentionally cause you harm?" Again, I nodded. "I am sorry that I did hurt you, and that in doing so I cause a rift in our…" he hesitated briefly before uttering the word, "relationship."

"It wasn't all you," I said. "I knew you were manipulating me. I _let_ you do it. I actually kind of like the notion that even _you_ have a tiny bit of a dark side, and I hadn't realized before exactly how many layers of masks that you actually wear, but…but that's a subject for another time. Just like discussing the fact that you made some promise to my mother is a subject for another time, although," and I smiled at him, "she did help me realize that the fact that you'd even discussed our possible future meant you'd given me – given _us_ – some thought."

"I have," he said softly, "considered _many_ possible permutations of our relationship."

I held up a hand. "Don't list them right now, okay?"

"I will not," he agreed, "If you will do something for me."

"Tell me?"

"Please do not run from me the next time we kiss, even if I cause you to become angry or upset immediately afterward. It…confuses me."

"Is there going to be a 'next time'?" I asked, surprised that he was being so forthright. I wondered if he'd had a little 'counseling' from Geordi as well.

"Do you not want there to be?" Had there been the merest trace of a hint of a smirk in that question?

"I want a lot of things, Data, but even if I'm no longer your student, I am still sixteen, at least for the next two months, and…" I thought about what I'd said to Geordi, what he'd told me to repeat. "…and there's a big gulf between what I want, and what I can have, not to mention that you have to want it, too."

"An apt description," he observed. "I believe," he continued, "that we will have to navigate that gulf together."

"I'm good with that," I said. I picked my teacup up from the coffee table, and drank about half of the tea inside it, then put it down again. "Data…do _you_ want there to be a 'next time?"

He seemed surprised that I'd even asked. "Of course, Zoe. Why would I not?"

I had to laugh, and laughing reminded me of the joy I'd felt about my exam scores. "My results!" I cried. "I came here to show you." I reached to retrieve my padd. "Here, read this." I handed the device to him.

"You have scored in the 98th percentile," he said. "Zoe, that is excellent."

"Yeah," I beamed. "It is. Now read the score breakdown. And accept credit where it's due."

"Your math score is twenty points higher than your verbal score." His eyebrows lifted, and I laughed again. Then I excused myself to use the bathroom. When I returned, he said, "I have taken the liberty asking your mother and Professor Benoit to meet us in Ten-Forward to celebrate your results. I hope that is…o-kay?" He never would learn to say that word correctly.

"More than okay," I said. I returned to the couch, but instead of sitting in the corner, I sat down closer to him. "I need to ask you something a little awkward."

"Please, do so."

"Is it true that you wrote a subroutine to handle your relationship with Jenna, and that you deleted it when she dumped you?"

He lowered his eyes, then raised them to my face again. "It is true."

"Geordi said you couldn't delete me that way…is that also true?"

"It is."

"Why?"

"I did not write a subroutine to handle my responses to you, Zoe," he said softly. "Instead, responses to you have been incorporated into every aspect of my programming."

_Every aspect? _"Oh," I said numbly. "Okay. That's good to know."

"We must leave now," he said, "if we are to meet your mother and the professor on time." He rose from the couch, once again offering me his hand to help me up. I was suddenly glad that I'd worn one of the outfits Annette and I had picked out when we had been revamping my closet.

At the door, I halted. "Data, wait," I said. He looked at me with 'query' all over his face, and I smiled softly, "That break I said I needed? I think it's over now."

His response surprised me, because it was completely non-verbal. He raised his left hand and lifted my chin just a little bit. Then he bent his head forward and kissed me. It was soft, and tender, and spoke volumes, and was over too soon, but the taste of him, the fact that it had come _from _him, still left me breathless.

I knew we still had to figure out the 'rules' for this new version of us. I knew we still had issues to work through. But for the first time, I also knew – _really knew_ – that we _could_ do it. We weren't a couple, exactly, but we were definitely an _us_.

"Yeah," I said, feeling my heart racing in my chest. "Break's definitely over."

* * *

**Notes: **Spans the episode _The Mind's Eye_ although the reference is incredibly oblique. Refers to chapters 5 &amp; 6 of _Crush II: Ostinato _ and chapters 26 &amp; 42 of _Crush_. Sven is mentioned in chapter 25 of _Crush. _Now all of you have confirmation of something Zoe never made clear to T'vek: Sven is a real person. Farm kids getting driver's licenses at fourteen is something I stole from my husband's own life. He grew up in rural South Dakota, and was driving (legally, on a special farm permit) at 13.

Special thanks go to **Javanyet**, **Moonlady**, **Phangirl28**, and **saya4haji** for their specific help, suggestions, and general support.

Apologies for any typos. It's 4:23 AM but I really want this posted. (I promise I'll fix them later.) Look for the revised _Auld Lang Syne_ (part 1) sometime after the weekend (I have Dallas Comic-Con this weekend), and chapter 14 of this story sometime after that. I have a couple of one-shot side pieces in the works as well. (Update 11:15 AM - minor edits have been made).

Oh, and yes, FONDEST IMAGININGS is now officially not in compliance (it was written before Lore ever reared his head) but I have a way to tweak it back into this universe...that will happen later.


	14. Etudes

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. The rest is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

**Continuity Note: ****_It is recommended that you read the two one-shots, "Three Little Words," and "Musings on a Saturday Morning," as well as the Prologue and the four "Song for a Winter's Night" sections of _****_For Auld Lang Syne_**** (****_and _****_Intentions _****_) before you read this chapter of _****_Crush II: Ostinato._**

* * *

**Etudes**

_Data released his embrace, and we both stood up. "I will see you soon," he promised. He brushed some of my hair away from my face, and bent to kiss me. It wasn't long enough, but it promised more. _

_I hugged him, hard. "Travel safe." I said. _

_"I will try," he answered, never one to promise more than he could deliver. Very softly, he added the two words that made my breath catch in my throat. "My Zoe." _

** \- from ****_For Auld Lang Syne, "Song for a Winter's Night Part IV" _**

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45029.18**

**(Thursday, 11 January 2368, 16:23 hours, ship's time)**

In music, an etude is a practice piece, a short composition designed to help you hone a specific technique. Sometimes they're used as recital pieces, but most etudes are for learning purposes only. Through the ages, music tastes and trends have changed, but the etudes most cellists use in their studies never have. David Popper's 40 etudes have been the standard for hundreds of years, and represent some of the best cello studies to come out of the Romantic period. Aaron Minsky, on the other hand, was a twentieth and twenty-first-century composer whose book of etudes was one of the only contemporary collections ever adopted into common use.

I wasn't at all surprised, then, that when I walked into the quarters I shared with my mother on the day I got back to the _Enterprise_, I was greeted by a vase of flowers (a mix of sunflowers and irises – my two favorites – flowers that should never have been put together, but somehow worked), and a copy of Popper's etudes. Separately, either the flowers or the music would have been a thoughtful and lovely welcome-home gift, but together, I knew they were a statement: we were partners, Data was saying, in more ways than one. He really was the best boyfriend ever.

"Aren't you going to read the card?"

Mom had met me at the shuttle bay, and we'd talked on the walk back home. She'd told me that Ed hadn't officially proposed yet because he wanted to speak with me, but that they were discussing marriage. I'd told her about the change in my relationship with Data, and how my father's concern wasn't my age or his rank, or even that Data was technically a machine, but that he was a Starfleet officer, which came with its own set of troubles.

"There's a card?" I felt stupid. Data had written me a letter – I'd have called it a love letter but was it, really, when the man sending it claimed not to feel love, and had, in fact, used bullet points? – within hours of leaving my homeworld eleven days before. Of _course_ there would be a card. I plucked it out of the center of the flower arrangement, read it, and smiled.

"Dinner invitation?" Mom guessed.

"Actually, no," I said. "He's working on an engineering project with Geordi, and then he's got a dog watch on the bridge until two."

"So you won't see him until…?"

"Breakfast," I told my mother, holding out the card. "He invited me to breakfast before class." I grinned at her, then added, "Besides, he knows it's been almost a month since I've seen my favorite mother. Tonight's about us. Is the spa still open? Because I see mani-pedis in our immediate future."

My mother laughed and pulled me into a warm hug. "I've missed you, Zoificus. Spa and supper?"

"Sounds like a plan…but do you mind if I shower first?" I wrinkled my nose. "I smell like shuttlecraft."

"Go! Scoot!"

**(=A=)**

Over dinner in our quarters, I finally told Mom about my hopes for the summer. "So, we ran into Lachlan Meade from ACT at Red Sands one morning."

"Isn't he the instructor you hated?"

"I didn't hate him, so much as I thought he hated me," I corrected. "I learned a lot from him, though. Anyway, he's directing the summer stock program at Idyllwild this year. He asked me to audition, and offered me the job…"

Mom cut me off. "Job? Zoe, you're still in school."

"I know," I said. "But it's an opportunity that won't come often. It's three months in San Francisco during the summer, and then a tour. I'll be resident ingénue. Three plays in rotation, and I'll be in all of them. Featured even. But I'd have to miss the first semester of next year, and…"

"And?"

"And I'm under eighteen, so either a parent or guardian would have to tour with me, or I'll have to be legally emancipated."

"What did your father say?"

"He said it's up to you, but agreed it's a really amazing opportunity." I hesitated for a few seconds, then, softly, added, "Data thinks I should go."

"You talked about it with him?"

"He was there when Lach asked me to set up the audition," I said. "But, I'd have asked his opinion anyway. He said it was a 'rare and valuable opportunity' and that it would likely be a beneficial experience. He also said he wasn't eager for me to be away that long, but when I asked him if _he'd_ go, he said yes."

"I can't take three months off to go with you, sweetie."

"I know. That's why I think I need to be emancipated." I outlined all the reasons why, and explained the terms of the contract, as well.

"I suppose you've already done the research on what exactly emancipation means?" My mother knew me too well.

"I might've had help," I confessed. "There are levels anyway. Some of them give me the right to make my own legal decisions, some sever all parent-child obligations."

"Let's set up a conference call with your father, and discuss it," she said after eating several green beans, one at a time. "I agree with Data – it is a rare opportunity, and one with value, but it's a big decision, and since there are contracts involved we need to proceed with caution."

"That's fair," I said.

We finished dinner, and I excused myself to unpack, check my schedule, and comm my friends to set up something for the next evening. Annette suggesting booking one of the holodecks for a couple of hours and Josh said he and Rryl had created a new program they wanted to share, so once Dana had secured permission from her father, we all agreed to meet around 1900 hours.

Normally, I would have curled up with a book after that, as it was still relatively early, but that night I felt the need to do something physical. And musical. I took my cello out of its travel case, tuned it, and started working on the first of the etudes in the Popper book. I used it as a warm-up, playing it through a couple of times and then actually picking it apart, paying special attention to the trickier parts. I wasn't sure exactly what Data's plan was, with regard to these exercises in pitch and dexterity, but I was certain there _was_ a plan, and I knew preparation would be in my best interest.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45030.30**

**(Friday, 12 January 2368, 02:13 hours, ship's time) **

I shouldn't have played music, even just etudes, so close to bedtime. I'd turned out my light around eleven, but I couldn't fall asleep. Or, rather, I couldn't _stay _asleep. Like a small child on Christmas Eve, I kept waking up and staring at the clock, convinced breakfast time would never arrive.

By one, I was frustrated with myself. True, I hadn't seen (or touched, or kissed) Data in more than ten days, but surely I could manage seven more hours. I adjusted my pillows, closed my eyes, and used the breathing techniques I'd initially learned from T'vek and still used. Meditative breathing. Calming, cleansing, breaths.

I was awake again in seventy minutes.

I rolled over and picked up Data's card from where I'd left it on the nightstand, not so much to reread as to hold something he'd touched recently. For an instant, I thought about just going to see him right then, but I knew that was just being over-tired.

I closed my eyes again, and tried the meditative breathing, but it wasn't working. Finally I touched the comm-badge that I'd left on the table with the card. "Zoe Harris to Lt. Commander Data."

_\- "Data here. Zoe, is everything alright?" _

"I'm sorry to bother you," I said. "And it's silly, and I won't abuse the comm-system like this again but…" I hesitated, because I really did feel a bit silly once I'd heard his voice.

_\- "You are not 'abusing' the comm-system, but please tell me how I can help you?"_

_I just wanted to hear your voice, _I didn't say. Out loud, I told him, "I wanted to thank you for the flowers," I said. "They're lovely and it was a nice surprise."

_\- "Most literature on the subject of romantic relationships suggests that roses are the optimal choice of flower for one's partner, however, I recall you saying that you dislike roses." _

"Irises and sunflowers are my favorites," I confirmed. "And you're right, I do hate roses."

_\- "Then, this is not a time you will be frustrated that I am right?" _

He said it in a slightly teasing tone, and it was exactly what I needed to hear. "No, it's a time when you get a gold star for sheer awesomeness." I hoped he could hear the smile in my voice. "I should go back to sleep. I just…needed to hear your voice."

_\- "I understand, Zoe. I have missed you, as well. Rest well. I will see you at breakfast." _

"I'll be there. G'night, Data." I cut the signal.

When I tried the breathing exercises again, they worked.

**(=A=)**

Roughly six hours later, I stood outside Data's door, and pressed the annunciator button, not sure if I should be excited or worried that he'd removed me from his lock. Actually, I was more than a little nervous just in general. His letter had been amazing, but we were still so new, and being on the ship was different than being on vacation.

"Come in!" he called out. He met me just inside, and made the two syllables of my name into the sweetest greeting I could imagine. "Zoe…"

I set my padd on the edge of his desk, stepped close to him, and rested my hands flat against his chest, feeling the subtle _thrum_ of his pulse. It moved all through him, not just at the places where human pulse-points were located, and I was rapidly becoming attuned to it. "I missed you," I said, looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry about comm-ing you in the middle of the night."

"Do not be. I have missed you, as well." His hands went to my waist, and we kissed, but then he held me away from him. "I am afraid we must delay any further intimacy until after our meal. I do not wish to risk being late for class."

My stomach growled, emphasizing his point. "I'll try to cope," I said drily, "what are we having."

"Nothing that you would term 'fancy,'" he said. "I did not believe our reunion should be in front of your classmates," he added, guiding me to the table. There was a small vase on it, I noticed, with more sunflowers, and he'd replaced the couch.

"No, private is good," I agreed. "You've been redecorating..."

"Reviews of the design imply that this couch should be fifty-three percent more comfortable and seventeen percent more conducive to 'cuddling' than the previous model."

I had to chuckle at that. "I look forward to finding out."

"As do I." He presented me with a spinach and mushroom omelet, slices of melons from three different worlds, and a mug of coffee with exactly the amount of milk I preferred. "Please eat."

I didn't have to be asked twice. We split some of my omelet and some of the fruit onto a second plate, and as we ate, he told me what he could of the mission that had pulled him away from Centaurus earlier than planned. "It was not until I questioned him that Captain Picard assigned me to command the _Sutherland_," he told me.

"So, you were Captain Data?" I asked, unable to keep from smiling. "Did you get to wear red?"

"My uniform did not change," he said. Reacting to my look of confusion, he explained, "In Starfleet, 'captain' can be a position as well as a rank. In this case, I was given the position of captain and command of a vessel, but my rank remained unchanged."

"So, you could have technically been in charge of people who outranked you?"

"That is unlikely," he said. "As any more senior officer would likely have been given command."

"But in theory…"

"Yes, Zoe, in theory it could have occurred. However, it did not."

"I'd have liked to see you be in charge. In command. I don't suppose there's video?"

"There is a 'black box' recording, of course, but that is not typically accessed unless a ship takes on significant damage or a breach of security has occurred."

"I guess we'll just have to stay together long enough for you to actually become captain, then," I said loftily. I was teasing – mostly – and we both knew it, but the words seemed to charge the atmosphere in the room. "I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't mean...I mean...I don't really expect...I hadn't meant to be presumptuous."

"You were not," he said softly.

"My father really did ask about your intentions, didn't he?" I hadn't really believed it when I'd originally asked about the conversation they'd had while I was surfing.

"He did," Data said. "And I have not forgotten that I promised to share the details of that discussion…"

"But now isn't the time?" I finished the sentence for him, but turned it into a question.

"I am afraid not."

"I should make _you_ wait to hear about my Idyllwild audition," I said, "but you were there when Lach said it was basically a formality, so I guess you should know they offered me the contract, but since I won't turn eighteen until a couple months after the tour ends, either a parent or guardian has to go with me, or I have to be legally emancipated – either way, they're required to provide a tutor, so my grades won't suffer any, and Dad said the money they're offering is pretty generous."

"Your father is unlikely to be able to go with you, and I know that your mother does not have that much accrued leave."

"True on both counts. I asked Nick if he could help with the legal stuff, and we're setting up a conference call with Dad, and then with him _and _Dad to discuss options."

"If I can be of any assistance, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Actually, there's some question of whether I can be legally emancipated without losing my status as my mother's dependent, which wouldn't matter, except if I'm not in her care, I don't think I'm allowed to be a student here."

"I do not believe you have cause for concern, Zoe. Whether or not you are a legal dependent of your mother, you will be welcome here."

I reached out to cover his hand with mine, and he immediately turned his hand beneath it and interlaced our fingers. I wondered if that had become an automatic response and resolved to ask him, but that, too, was for another time. "Thank you."

"If you are finished eating, we have one more subject to discuss before class."

"You mean, whether or not my friends have a problem with me being there, even with Geordi grading my work?"

"Precisely."

"What's to discuss? We tell them we're dating, and that you won't be grading my work. We answer any reasonable questions. We let them vote on whether or not I get to stay. Besides, Annette and Dana already know I _wanted_ this – us. Annette knows more, but…you can't be my only support system and Mom is…Mom."

He took a beat, apparently processing the information that I'd spoken of our burgeoning relationship with my friends. "It is good that you have that support," he said finally. "Despite that, have you considered what to do if your friends are _not_ comfortable with your continued presence in my tutorial?"

"They won't _be_ uncomfortable," I insisted. He held my gaze until I looked away from him, and shares, softly, "I have a contingency plan for that - three different contingencies, actually. I assumed Geordi had told you."

"He did not. We have had other matters that took priority, and we were both off the ship during our mission."

I nodded to show I understood, and explained. "I can either go back to regular math – just to have the credit, or, I can challenge for a credit in regular math, so I don't have to sit there and be bored five hours a week, or I can do an independent study, which Geordi will still grade, but I'd have to do it on my own, and I don't think I'm that bright."

"I believe you are underestimating yourself."

"I'm open to other ideas, if you have any."

"I do not. Even if we ended our relationship –" We were still holding hands; he felt my muscles tense at that. "- which is _not_ an option I wish to exercise – it would be inappropriate for you to return to class if I am scoring your work."

"I know that." I shook my head, as the absurdity of the situation hit me. Then I started laughing.

"What is funny?" He was honestly confused.

"I'm fighting to stay in a class I didn't originally want to be in, for a subject I don't even like," I said. "Even if you can't actually laugh at that, you _have_ to appreciate the irony."

He took a fraction of a second to process. "It is ironic," he agreed.

"But I don't really have a choice, if I don't want my GPA to suffer."

"No, you do not. And your continued absence changes the dynamics of the class in ways your friends do not appear to appreciate."

I slipped my hand from his, and stacked our empty plates to be recycled. "How much time do we have left?" I asked the question as I cleared the table.

"Based on your average walking speed, the shortest route to the conference room, and the likelihood of the turbolift cars being in their optimal positions, we have fifteen minutes before we must leave."

"Perfect. Let's spend ten evaluating that couch."

"Evaluating?"

I smirked at him. "I'd like a little more 'physical intimacy' before I have to go be a student."

"Why ten minutes?"

"Five to use the bathroom, after."

"Ah."

We moved to the couch where, instead of taking my usual position curled into the corner farthest from the door, I cuddled against him. "I approve of the upgrade," I said softly.

Data's answer was to ghost a kiss across the top of my head, and tell me softly. "You wanted to know how we will 'be' here on the _Enterprise._ We will be like this. We will do it by spending time together, as we always have, but with…"

"_More_." I finished for him.

"Exactly, Zoe. With…_more._"

I smiled. I liked…_more_. But ten minutes ticked by too quickly, and when Data, quite literally, called 'time,' I excused myself to use the bathroom and put on the lipstick I'd intentionally left off before. Walking through his bedroom, I noticed the other furniture changes, and made a note to twit him about it later. Feeling more prepared to face the rest of the day I returned to the main room. "Should we leave separately?" I asked, mostly teasing.

For a change, the person offering a pointed look was him, not me. "That would be unnecessary," he said matter-of-factly.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45032.10**

**(Friday, 12 January 2368, 18:00 hours, ship's time) **

"Dana, it's your turn."

Annette, Dana, Josh, Rryl, and I were sitting on the floor around the coffee table in my quarters, the pieces of a board game scattered on the table in front of us. We'd ended up coming there after our last classes of the day, and had decided that board games and junk food were more compelling than playing on the holodeck.

"I want to make an accusation," Dana said. She placed a yellow marker in a round space on the game board, and added a game piece meant to represent a medical device. "I think the killer is Lt. Commander Mustard, in the astrometrics lab, with dermal regenerator."

"I can disprove that," I said, flashing her a peek at the evidence - Lt. Commander Mustard's character card was in my hand.

"Arghhh! I was sure I had it! Ryll, it's your go."

Rryl tapped the data flimsy with his notes and moved the requisite pieces into the proper section of the board. "You have all missed the obvious clues to our mystery, my friends," he intoned. "The murder of Ensign Boddy was clearly committed by Doctor Peacock, in the arboretum, with a circuit attenuator!"

We all stared at the usually-quiet Akkallan boy. "No way," I said. I'd actually suspect the doctor, but not the weapon or location.

"Can anyone disprove this?" Annette asked.

None of us could.

"Shall I check the dossier?" Josh asked.

"Do it," Dana said."

Josh flipped over the three translucent cards which proved that Rryl was right.

"And the winner of _Starship Conundrum_ is Rryl!" I announced. "_You_ get a prize."

"Wait, there are prizes?" Josh asked. "How did I not know there were prizes?"

"Actually," I said, standing up, "Everybody gets a prize. I'll be right back." I went into my room and retrieved the presents I'd brought home for all my friends. "Rryl, Josh, Annette, Dana…"

"Zoe, you didn't have to…" Dana began, while the boys were already ripping into their bags.

"Are you kidding? You all proved what great friends you are when you were completely cool about Data and me in class today. I was convinced you'd make me leave."

"Are _you_ kidding?" That was from Josh again. "We're counting on you to get us early access to exams."

"Keep dreaming, Joshua," I told him, using the hated full version of his name intentionally.

"Zoe, these are lovely!" Annette held up the coral necklace and earrings I'd brought back for each of the girls. The boys each got a tooth from one of Centaurus's pelagic toothy fish strung on black cording, and all four of my friends had t-shirts from the Great Oreas Lighthouse.

Dana hugged me impulsively, "I love these." Her coral was blue, while Annette's was orange.

I hugged her back. "I wish you all could have come with me."

Rryl and Josh were equally pleased with their gifts, and I was delighted that my friends liked what I brought them. "Seriously, Zoe," Josh said, "could you visit more places so we can get more loot?" I was sitting against the couch, so it was easy enough to grab a throw pillow and lob it at him. "Hey!"

He lobbed it back at me his aim was off and it sailed harmlessly through the gap between Annette and Rryl. "Your aim needs serious work, my friend," the Akkallan boy observed. He began gathering the pieces of the game, "Should we play another round, or should we try something else?"

"Wait, is Zoe even available for another game?" Josh asked the room.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Friday night? You and Data don't have _plans_?" the blond boy waggled his eyebrows on the word plans, earning a glower from his girlfriend.

I rolled my eyes at him. "We're dating, not attached at the hip." I was pretty sure it was more than dating, but the details really didn't need to be explained just then. "Besides, I spent a good chunk of my holiday with Data – he came to the house on his way back from Kneriad – I haven't had decent hang-out time with all of you since…November? God, I'm a horrible friend."

Both Dana and Annette wrapped their arms around me. "You're not," Annette said. "You've just had a lot on your plate. We get it."

"Okay, but…you're leaving for college at the end of this school year, and the rest of us only have a year left, and I might not even be here for half of it…so…let's agree to hang out more regularly? Maybe every Friday? It doesn't have to be all night -just after classes...As it is I'm pretty sure it's about time for Dana and Josh to go off and do some couplish canoodling."

"Actually," Rryl said, "_I_ have a date tonight."

All four of us were keenly interested. Dana leaned toward him. "Do tell?"

"It is with Serena, from our Federation History class."

"Oh, she's cool. I've run into her at the pool a couple of times," I said. "So, how much longer do we have you for tonight?"

"About an hour," Rryl answered.

"Mmm. Not enough time for another round of _Conundrum_." Being on Centaurus had reminded me of the games we kids had played at Grans farm, though…the games that didn't require pieces or dice or cards. "What if I told you that we could lift Rryl over our heads using only two fingers each?"

And so, I introduced my friends to some decidedly low-tech fun. I'm betting it was the first time anyone had played "Light as a feather; stiff as a board" on a starship. It definitely wouldn't be the last.

**(=A=)**

By 19:30, Rryl had gone to get ready for his date, and Josh and Dana had excused themselves, as well. Annette and I looked at each other, and made matching wry faces.

"It's kind of ironic," she said, "that we're both in relationships, and yet we're alone on Friday night."

"How is Wes, anyway?" I asked. "He said something about being on Caldos over Christmas, the last time we exchanged mail?"

"I was there with him," she said. "I don't think we're going to last much longer."

"Oh, Annette, I'm sorry." I moved onto the couch and she did the same.

"Don't be. We're growing in different directions."

"It happens, I guess."

"It won't happen with you and Data."

I shook my head. "You don't know that. You can't know that. Anyway, we're brand new. I mean, the holidays were _amazing_, but then he got called back here and I realized what my father used to go through with Mom."

"I thought he was just transporting you to Centaurus, not staying. How was that, anyway, twenty-six hours in a shuttlecraft?"

I smiled, remembering. "It was…it was good. We talked. We played poker. We had a sing-a-long."

"A sing-a-long."

"Mmhmm. Every road trip must have a sing-a-long; it's a rule."

My friend burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Zoe…I'm trying to picture Data participating in a sing-a-long, and I just can't do it."

"He has a lovely voice, Annette. Really. But if you have a hard time picturing that, your brain's going to explode when I tell you that he came to the beach to watch me surf, and wore khakis…and sandals."

Her jaw literally dropped. "Please tell me you have photographic evidence."

"I do, but I don't have Data's permission to share, so you'll have to wait to see."

"Zoe?"

"Yeah?"

"Amazing? Really?"

I smiled softly. "Amazing. Really."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45033.86**

**(Saturday, 13 January 2368, 09:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Good morning! Happy Saturday!" I was so excited to be playing music with Data again that I couldn't help the loud and somewhat sing-songy greeting I offered as I breezed through his door with my cello in response to his invitation to come in. I was half an hour earlier than usual, but the change in time had been at his request.

"You seem very exuberant this morning," he said, rising from his console. He took my cello and set it against the wall, and then turned back to me and kissed me very gently. "Exuberance suits you."

I laughed and hugged him briefly. "I'm jazzed about playing with you, is all. I started working on the first etude the first night I got back to the ship. Why etudes? They're not part of the audition requirements."

"No," he agreed, "they are not. Nor is their study a requirement of our coaching agreement. I will leave it to you to determine the reason for asking you to work through Popper's collection. However, before we can begin our new agenda, there is a final examination for you to complete, which is why I asked you to arrive early."

"Oh?"

"Yes. By beginning now, there will be time for us to break for lunch and still have two hours to play music." He paused for a beat before adding, "Commander Riker's jazz combo is playing a concert in Ten-Forward tonight. Would you like to attend with me?"

"Are you inviting me on a date?" I was pretty certain he was, but it didn't hurt to confirm.

"I am." His eyes were wide, steady, locked on mine.

"What time?"

"They will begin at twenty-hundred hours. If you would like dinner, we can eat before or afterward."

I smiled. "I'll want to change first."

"Then we should begin your examination."

"I'm ready when you are."

He cocked his head slightly, his demeanor shifting into a more professional mode. "Please be seated, Ms. Harris, and we will begin." I took a seat at his table, and he put a padd in front of me. "Press the start button when you are ready." He went back to his console, and whatever he'd been working on when I'd arrived.

The computerized music theory exam wasn't as in-depth as Data's test would have been; there was no hands-on section, for one thing. Nevertheless, it took me the full two hours to complete it. Interestingly, the padd also took longer to generate a score.

"Did I pass?" I asked.

"Did you doubt that you would?"

"With you as a teacher? Never." I took a beat. "But I prefer the partnership we're starting after lunch. Playing with you…when we do play together…Data, it's better than surfing."

His eyebrows lifted. "I have seen how much you enjoy surfing. That is 'high praise.'"

"So it is." I agreed. "You mentioned lunch, but unless you actually _want_ to eat, I'd rather just replicate a protein shake or a smoothie and get to music. I'm itching to play."

"I will get my violin."

I requested a chocolate raspberry protein shake and drank it while I unpacked my cello, and Data set up our music stands. We tuned our instruments together, or rather, Data tuned his violin and then played the 'A' I needed to hear to tune my cello.

"Shall we begin with the first of the Popper etudes?" he suggested. "I will play it with you."

We played it through together once, and then began picking it apart, just as we'd done other pieces in the past, but there was something different about the way we interacted. Before, he had critiqued my technique and given me pointers on improving intonation, but something about knowing we were doing this as partners rather than teacher and student made me more confident about giving _him _advice about making his playing more expressive.

An hour flew by and I was giddy from the music. "God, Data, that was awesome, and it was only an etude."

"We do seem to have achieved the 'meshy-ness' you used to talk about when we first began working together."

I laughed. "Understatement of the year."

He tilted his head slightly, and then straightened it and tapped commands into his padd, thus changing the display on my music stand. "This is another etude, called 'Train Whistle.' It was written by an American composer who also referred to himself as Von Cello. I would like you to try it."

I scanned the music. "It's really different. Kind of avant garde. Those chords are _intense _\- are they in fourths?" I played it through as best as I could, wrinkling nose as I finished. "That sucked."

"For a first attempt, it was...not as bad as you believe," he said diplomatically. "Take a closer look at the way some of Minsky's chord progressions echo the Popper piece." He demonstrated on his violin. "Similarly, the controlled glissades are in both pieces. Then consider the title. Have you ever heard the whistle of a train?"

"Only on vids," I said. "Grav trains don't whistle."

"Allow me." He opened his mouth and a multi-toned whistling sound came out. I was caught between wonderment and amusement. He repeated the sound, then, in his usual voice, asked me to play the piece again. That time, I could hear the train whistle in the music I was playing, and almost feel the chugging of an engine.

From there, we moved on to a duet we'd played before - the Vulcan piece we'd performed for my father when he'd come to see me the previous May. That had been before my summer in San Francisco, and before Lore had pierced my tongue, and we'd played it well then, but eight months later we'd both matured as musicians, and our relationship had evolved. What had previously been a technical exercise had become something like...foreplay.

"Wow," I said breathlessly, sitting all the way back in my chair. "Just…wow." My pulse was racing almost as much as it typically did whenever Data kissed me. That thought spurred another. I set my cello down on the floor, resting it on its ribs, and stood up, crossing the few feet of space that separated Data and me.

"Zoe…?"

"Could you put your violin down, please?" I asked him. He complied, and I took his hand, and pressed his fingers to my neck, over my carotid artery. "Do you feel that?" I asked him.

"Your pulse is racing," he said, and then specified the beats per minute. "Your respiration rate is altered as well, and your pupils are dilated. You are…"

"Aroused," I said. "Music does that to me sometimes." My tone was wry mixed with something else, but it didn't matter, because I didn't want to talk about music just then. In much the same way I had bent over him when he had been sitting in a beach chair on Centaurus, I lowered my head to capture his mouth with my own, kissing him, and then pulling back to watch his face.

His golden eyes were wide open, and fixed on me. He lifted his fingers from my neck, but only for the briefest fraction of a second. Then he touched my skin again, and stroked my neck with infinite gentleness.

His fingers were cool against my hot skin, and I gasped softly.

Data repeated the motion with slightly more pressure. I could almost sense him cataloging the way my responses changed, the way my pulse got even faster. "Zoe…" His voice was a whisper, a breath, and he swallowed reflexively, something I rarely saw him do.

I kissed him again, and smiled. "Can we take this somewhere more comfortable?"

"Yes, we can."

I stepped back, giving Data space to stand up. I expected that we'd relocate to the couch, but he surprised me, lifting me into his arms. For a fraction of a second I thought he meant to take me to his bed, but common sense prevailed. We weren't ready for that step, neither of us, and I knew that there would be talking – a _lot_ of talking – before we were. The couch had been his destination all along, and he sat down, and settled me onto his lap, the way he had on our shuttle flight to Centaurus.

"Is this better?" he asked softly.

"This is perfect," I answered. He was wearing civilian clothes, and the shirt he'd chosen – a red pullover – was close-fitting, and had a lower neckline than his uniform. I ran my hands over his shoulders, reveling in the new freedom I had to touch and explore. He was solid and pliant at once, and the more I touched him, the more I wanted to.

Data's right hand was at my waist, but his left was teasing my neck again, as if, once I'd given him permission, he needed to investigate every nuance of what touching me there might do. He traced my ear with his fingers and teased my earlobe, but his attention kept moving back to my neck, to the pulse-point there.

Deciding turnabout was fair, I kissed him again on the lips, but then I pressed a kiss to where _his_ carotid would have been if he had one. _Note to self: ask if he has an analog. _I was pleasantly surprised when _his_ breathing changed subtly in response to my kiss - a barely perceptible hitch - and I impulsively flicked my tongue out to taste his skin. I expected it to taste like…nothing…or plastic, I suppose. I certainly wasn't expecting the salt and sweat of organic skin, but it had the same faint flavor of cashews that his kisses did.

I opened my mouth to tell Data he tasted really good, but he'd given up on using his fingers and was placing a series of tiny kisses along my jawline and neck, nibbling softly as if he could taste my pulse. Maybe he could. He nuzzled, and then ever-so-gently sucked the tender skin at the juncture of my neck and shoulder and I shivered. When he did it again I cried out, "Oh, God…"

"No, Zoe," his voice was _so_ close to my ear. His breath tickled my skin. "I am only Data."

I laughed softly. "That's even better." I pressed my forehead to his. "We have to stop, don't we? Right now, I mean."

"We…should," he agreed, though he seemed as reluctant as I was.

"I saw your new bed," I said softly. "Data, will there ever be a time when we don't have to stop?"

"There will…when we are both ready."

"Are you going to tell me _now_ why you're suddenly into etudes?"

"I believe I will let you figure it out."

I laughed again, and slid off his lap. "I love it when you show your dark side," I teased. "I should go. Apparently, I have a hot date tonight."

"I will pick you up at nineteen-thirty hours," he said.

"I'll be ready."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45035.00**

**(Saturday, 13 January 2368, 19:30 hours, ship's time) **

My mother wasn't home when I got back to our quarters, so I called Annette and Dana for wardrobe help. We chose a winter-white V-neck sweater and a soft black skirt that worked with my favorite chunky boots, and I accessorized with a simple pair of silver earrings and the scarf (midnight blue with small metallic stars) Data had given to me on New Year's Eve. On my friends' recommendation I'd also left my hair down, and kept my makeup to the bare minimum.

Data, of course, was right on time, still wearing that red shirt, paired with charcoal grey trousers and the soft black shoes he'd picked out in Beach Haven.

"I'm ready, I swear, but come in a minute?" I asked him.

"Zoe, are you…alright?"

"Kiss," I demanded, and we shared a brief one. "I'm nervous," I explained.. "I know it's just Ten-Forward, and no one's going to eat me alive or anything, but…I'm nervous. And I need you to help me not to be."

"How do I help?" he asked.

"Ground rules." I began pacing back and forth in front of him. "You said we'd have to figure them out, but for tonight…am I allowed to touch you? Can we hold hands? Am I supposed to pretend like we're just casual friends who happen to be sitting together? And…oh, God, why do you have to look so good in red?"

He held me by my upper arms, stilling my agitated pacing, but not hurting me. "We have traversed the corridors of the _Enterprise_ arm-in-arm on at least one occasion," he reminded me. "We have attended functions together before, as well." His eyes were locked on mine, his gaze holding me with far more force than his hands.

"Yeah, and the last one ended in you all being zapped into Sherwood Forest," I pointed out.

"I do not think it likely that anyone will be 'zapped' anywhere this evening. We are going to listen to music, and then if you are hungry we will share a meal. These are things we already do, Zoe…it is just that now we are doing them in public."

I lowered my eyes. "Intellectually, I know all this." I said softly. "I just…People will talk."

"As we have discussed before, people are already 'talking.'"

I looked back at him, let myself get lost in those warm golden eyes of his. I took a deep breath and released it. "Okay," I said.

"O-kay?"

I smiled at him. "I'm better now. I might get jittery later, but I think I'll be okay."

He slid his hands down my arms and took my hands. "I am certain that you will be more than o-kay," he said, and I laughed, and stole another kiss.

He held my hand on the way to the turbo-lift, and then on the walk from the 'lift to the lounge.

**(=A=)**

Ten-Forward was pleasantly crowded when we arrived, and Commander Riker and the other musicians were in the middle of a warm-up on the raised platform serving as a stage. Guinan, or someone, had arranged the tables to feel like a club – two-tops and four-tops with all the chairs facing the stage, and candles flickering on each one.

It probably should have occurred to me that Data would want to sit near the people he considered friends, but it didn't until I realized that he'd chosen a table for two that was right between a table being shared by Lt. Worf and Reg Barclay, and another that was currently occupied by Geordi and Counselor Troi, with two chairs remaining open between them.

The counselor greeted me warmly when we arrived. "Zoe, I'm glad to see you here. You look tan and healthy." She gave me a brief hug.

"Three weeks of sun and surfing will do that."

"So they will," she agreed. "But we're glad to have you home, as well."

"Thank you," I said, feeling more comfortable already. I exchanged greetings with Geordi and Reg, the latter of whom complimented my scarf. "Oh, it was a gift," I said, glancing at Data.

We all chatted for a few more minutes before the lights flickered and we took our seats. Just before the concert started a server came by asking for drink orders, and I'm pretty sure my request for sparkling Altair water with a twist of lime surprised my companion. "I was not aware mineral water was something you enjoyed."

"I'm too jittery for coffee," I said softly. "And I didn't think you'd appreciate me ordering a martini. Although if _you_ did…"

"Perhaps next time," he said. Our drinks arrived just as the music started.

The jazz combo was surprisingly good. More importantly, all the musicians seemed to be really enjoying themselves. I'll take adequate players who are having fun over technically perfect zombie players with no personality any day, and Commander Riker had this mischievous glint in his eye whenever he played a solo on his trombone.

Three songs into the set, a singer joined the group, for a smoky version of "Fever" followed by a Risan love song (Number Seventy-three, actually – there were so many Risan love songs they only ever got numbers.) The next piece was an instrumental one – "Jazz Etudes."

"Did you put them up to that?" I asked Data in my quietest whisper.

"I…may have," he admitted.

There was a ten minute break between sets. Our drinks were refreshed, and I noticed that Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher had taken the seats between Deanna and Geordi. Well, at least I wasn't ill or in emotional turmoil, and there was very little chance he'd speak to me anyway.

Of course, I _would _have to be wrong.

Commander Riker came over to say hello to his colleagues – his friends – before the second set. I heard him conversing with the captain, and heard the latter ask softly about the "identity of the young woman who had convinced Commander Data to wear something other than his uniform off-duty."

If I had heard, I knew Data had as well. I met his eyes, certain I was blushing, and he leaned close to assure me, "You have nothing to worry about."

I nodded. There was really nothing to say.

"It's Zoe Harris," I heard the counselor answer. "And I think they look good together," she added. "I'm certain," she said pointedly, "that they can hear every word, as well. And if Zoe can't, we all know Data can."

"Quite true, Counselor," the captain said, and though I didn't know his tone enough to read him well, he sounded more amused than anything. "Mr. Data, Ms. Harris, are you enjoying the music?"

Data looked to me, and I smiled politely. "We are, sir, thank you," he answered for both of us.

"Are you a fan of jazz, Ms. Harris?" he persisted.

"I like pretty much all music, sir, although certain Kzinti chord progressions challenge my sanity. My grandfather played sax in a small jazz ensemble, from time to time."

"Kzinti music can be a bit…grating…to human ears," the captain agreed. "Who was your grandfather?"

"Parker Harris, sir. I'm told he was fairly well known in his time. He died when I was ten, so I didn't know him very well."

It was Commander Riker who reacted to that. "Zoe is there anyone in your family who isn't extraordinary or famous?"

"Aside from me, you mean?" I was only half kidding.

"I have a feeling you'll be impressing us all, and not too long from now," the trombone playing first officer said, grinning. "Captain, everyone, we have a second set. Data, are you and Zoe joining everyone for dinner after?"

"I had not realized everyone would be dining together," my gold-skinned date said. "In any case, it is up to Zoe."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," I said, meaning it. "I'm sure the last thing you all want to do is make inane conversation with a student." I'd been hoping Data would read into what I was saying, and beg off, even if it was just to escort me home and return, but I forgot who I was with, and how often he missed social cues.

"You will not be intruding," he said to me. "And I have never known you to be inane." To Commander Riker, he said, "Zoe and I would be happy to join you."

"I look forward to it," Riker said. "Zoe, do you have any requests?"

"I'm not that familiar with trombone solos," I said apologetically, "but I've always liked 'A Night in Tunisia.' If your axe man can handle it, 'Autumn Leaves' is a favorite, also."

They ended up playing both, and dinner ended up not being horrible, partly because the captain, the doctor, and Lt. Worf all excused themselves almost immediately after the concert, and partly because when we gave our next drink orders, I asked the server to bring Data a dirty martini, and I kept stealing sips of it, causing him to give me sidelong glances, though he never objected.

When the group finally broke up, it was only midnight, though it felt much later, and I was quiet on the walk back to the turbo-lift, and the ride to the deck and section where Data's quarters were located. In fact, I only realized we were _at_ his quarters instead of mine, when I halted outside his door.

"Zoe, is something wrong."

"Not exactly," I said. "I wasn't paying attention, and I should have asked you to take me home."

"You do not wish to have tea before we end the evening?" He seemed almost disappointed that I was ready to end our date.

"I always enjoy sharing late night tea with you," I said truthfully. "But it's been a long, and very intense day, and I'm still feeling weird about having dinner with all of you." I moved fully into his space so the door would close, and then I continued, practically on autopilot, to the couch.

"I do not understand? What was 'weird'?

"Commander Riker included me to be polite," I said. "He wasn't expecting you to accept. Or at least, he was expecting that if you _did _accept you would take me home first, then return."

"But you did not object."

"Actually, I did, sort of."

"Ah." He joined me on the couch. "When you said you did not wish to intrude, you were expecting me to 'get you out of there.'"

"Something like that, yes."

"Why did you not just say so?"

"I…didn't know how to tell you without embarrassing you or making things more awkward. Next time I'll be clearer."

"And I will try to read your signals more effectively."

I chuckled at that. "Deal," I said softly. "Thanks for not freaking out when I stole half your drink."

"I do not 'freak out,'" he reminded me. "But no one would have prevented you from ordering a martini of your own."

The drinking age for synthehol was sixteen if it was at a restaurant, eighteen at a bar or club – at least for human-controlled establishments. "I know," I said. "But it was more fun to sneak sips of yours and see who noticed. And having a game to play made me feel less self-conscious about being there."

"Ah."

"And it kept me from touching you."

"Touching…me?"

"For the better part of a year, I've had this…awareness…of you. It got stronger in September when my tongue got perforated. It's different now that we're exploring intimacy in private, and I know we don't have to rush into anything…but…yeah."

"Hmm. I believe I understand. All through dinner, I was considering the different textures and colors of your hair." His mouth quirked up at the corners. "It was distracting."

I laughed softly. "I'm glad it wasn't just me." I stood up, then. "I really should go home, Data. It was a good first date, really."

"I will escort you." He rose also. It was only two decks and a very short walk, and I was going to object, but he placed a gentle finger against my lips. "It is appropriate, is it not, for someone to walk his girlfriend home?"

I favored him with a wicked smile, and kissed his finger before he took it away. "I'd like that," I said.

We held hands on the way back to the quarters I shared with my mother, and he stepped inside with me, so we could share a proper goodnight kiss. We were just moving apart when I realized what he was doing with the etudes, and I couldn't help it; I started laughing.

"Zoe, have I don't something amusing?"

"No," I said. "You're just…you're amazing, you know that?"

"You have said so many times."

"No, I mean with the etudes. They're meant to be practice pieces…ways to hone skills. But…but that's what tonight was, too. Going to a concert, staying with your friends for dinner. It's all etudes…relationship etudes."

His expression told me that I was right, that I'd figured it out. "I wished to demonstrate that the way for us to 'be' here on the _Enterprise_ is simply to do so. To interact here the same way we did on your homeworld, but with slightly less physical public behavior."

"How long do you plan to keep this up?"

"There are forty etudes in the Popper collection, Zoe, and ten in the Minsky." I glared at him and he added, "I have no specific plan for us, except to continue as we are. There are times where, of necessity, it will require you to interact with my friends and colleagues among the senior officers."

"And the…_more_…we had yesterday morning, and today?"

"Will also continue."

"We will _eventually_ pick my audition pieces and work on those?"

"Of course, Zoe."

I laughed, and hugged him. "You awesome, wonderful, fantastic man!"

His arms came around me, holding me close. He kissed the top of my head, and ran a gentle hand through my hair. "I will leave you to your rest now, Zoe. Contact me when you wake."

"I'll do that," I said. "G'night, Data. Thank you for today, for all of today."

"Goodnight, Zoe."

He left, and I went back to my room and went to bed, but before I went to sleep, I asked the computer to play the entire collection of Popper etudes.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry this took so long to write – it's over 8k words, so forgive the length of the piece as well. A reminder: in the CRUSHverse the age of consent is 16 (for humans and humanoids with similar lifespans).

_Starship Condundrum_ is obviously a redress of _Clue_. (In my house we turn _Clue _into a role playing game and Ms. Scarlet conceals the revolver in her bra a lot.) Data's use of the word 'meshy-ness' has to do with a conversation way back in chapter 7 of the original **_Crush_**, and Zoe's first theory tutorial. The shuttlecraft ride and the time spent at Zoe's house are all from the first five chapters of **_For Auld Lang Syne_**, and the conversation between Data and Maestro Harris was first seen in _**For Auld Lang**_** _Syne _**though the full conversation only appears in chapter one of _**Intentions. **_

David Popper (1843-1913) was a cellist and composer. His collection of cello etudes, "Op. 73, High School of Cello Playing (_Hohe Schule des Violoncellospiels_): _Forty Études for Cello Solo_," is considered one of the most important collection of technique practice pieces for cellists, and some of the pieces are performed in recitals. Aaron Minsky (aka Von Cello) is both a classical cellist and an avant garde rock cellist, and is the composer of ten modern etudes for solo cello, the only recent composer whose creations have become part of standard studies and repertoire. Both Popper's etude #1 and Minsky's first etude ("Train Whistle") have been added to the CRUSHING ON CELLO YouTube playlist (see link in my profile).

"Jazz Etude" is a piece performed by the Moe Koffman Quartet. "A Night in Tunisia" was written by Dizzie Gillespie and Charlie Parker. "Autumn Leaves" is an English translation of a French song called "Les feuilles mortes," with music by Hungarian-French composer Joseph Kosma and lyrics by poet Jacques Prévert. It's become a standard of American music. (Sadly, Brent Spiner has never recorded it, but he totally should.)


	15. Enharmonics

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

* * *

**Enharmonics**

_In modern musical notation and tuning, an __**enharmonic equivalent**__ is a note, interval, or key signature that is equivalent to some other note, interval, or key signature but "spelled", or named differently. For example, in twelve-tone equal temperament the notes C__ and D__ are __**enharmonic **__(or __**enharmonically equivalent**__**)**__ notes. Namely, they are the same key on a keyboard, and thus they are identical in pitch, although they have different names and different roles in harmony and chord progressions._

**Stardate 45048.61**

**(Thursday, 18 January 2368, 19:00 hours, ship's time)**

I was curled into my corner of Data's couch, reading a novel for my literature class with 'help' from Spot, while half-listening as Counselor Troi worked with the actual owner of said couch to try and decipher some new alien language apparently based on idiom. They'd been at it for hours, having merely been on a break when I'd arrived an hour earlier, and I'd asked twice if I should leave, but Deanna had insisted I'd find it interesting, and Data had reminded me that I'd been asking about observing his work. They weren't working on anything classified, he'd said, and he knew I enjoyed languages and literature.

After half an hour of watching them work, I decided that the real reason _Deanna_ had wanted me to stay was because a hyper-focused Data could also be incredibly exhausting. She designated me their official sounding board. I designated myself their unofficial kibitzer. For all practical purposes this meant that Deanna would, every so often, throw a word or phrase in my direction and see how I responded. I had the distinct impression they were testing me in some way, but I had no clue how…or why.

As it approached 19:00 hours, the halfway mark for quartet rehearsals when we were holding them, I began to get antsy, and I think the counselor sensed it. Actually, I know she did.

"Data," she said. "I'm getting tired and punchy, and we're getting nowhere. Let's break for now. I've got dinner plans, and won't be of much use without food and sleep, anyway."

"Very well, Counselor. We can reconvene in the morning, and see what the team in the anthropology lab has determined."

"Make sure you take a few hours off yourself," she advised him. "I'm sure Zoe wouldn't mind actual conversation from you."

"Hmm?" I said, having heard my name. I'd been listening of course, but I didn't really want them to know how closely.

Troi smiled tiredly at me, "I was just telling Data to take a few hours off. Make him take you to dinner outside of these quarters," she suggested. "Dinner without the entire senior staff tagging along."

I blushed faintly. "I kind of thought I was the one tagging along last week," I said.

"No, you weren't. But I can see why you felt that way. Data was lectured about when it's appropriate to say 'no' to a superior officer."

I glanced over at our android host, but he was either truly focused or studiously avoiding us. Either way, I felt bad for being the cause of a lecture. "We'd actually discussed it afterward," I said. "It wasn't his fault, and I should have been more assertive."

"Perhaps," she agreed in the tone that I'd come to learn meant we were totally going to revisit the subject in our next counseling session. "In any case, android or not, Data needs to take breaks from time to time. I leave it to you to see that he actually does. I'll see you in the morning, Data."

"Goodnight, Counselor." He issued the farewell just as the door closed behind her.

I waited a beat before glancing over at Data. "Go back to work; you _know_ you want to." My tone was a bit grumpier than I'd meant it, but there was a chance he hadn't noticed.

"I wish to complete the task I was assigned, yes," he agreed. "But Counselor Troi was correct that sometimes even I benefit from stepping away from a problem for a time."

"_You_ do?" I was understandably skeptical.

"Yes, Zoe. Just as, like you, when I return to such a task, I typically see it with 'fresh eyes.'" He rose from his work chair and came to join me on the couch. "Do you wish to have dinner in Ten-Forward, or one of the other dining lounges?"

"Truth?" I asked.

"Always."

"Eating here with you always feels cozy and domestic, but going somewhere more public is probably a better idea if we're ever going to achieve any kind of normalcy. And by 'we' I mostly mean 'me,' since you don't get nervous or feel out of place."

"That is not entirely correct," he said softly. I saved my place in my book, and set my padd aside. "There are times," he continued, "when I have been acutely aware of being…_other_."

"Do_ I_ make you -?" I began.

"You do not," he was quick to assure. "One of the reasons I was first drawn to you was precisely _because_ you apparently accepted who and what I am, and still treated me no differently than you do anyone else."

I shrugged. "People are pretty much people, and should be treated the way they want to be. But I _did_ treat you differently for long time. It took me almost a year to figure out you weren't a superhero, just a person." I paused, then retracted my original dining plan. "Look, I know Counselor Troi means well, but I really look forward to our video nights. Ten-Forward will still be there tomorrow or next week – I wouldn't object to a special birthday dinner, by the way – but tonight, I'd really like to just snuggle with you on this couch and watch whatever vid you've chosen."

"It has been…a while…" Data was getting better and better at knowing when to use vague time estimates, I noticed. "…since we have watched a video here, and I do have something I would like you to view."

"Why don't we just replicate a quiche or something and eat while we watch?" I suggested. "We can still enjoy some…couch time…and then you can go back to work with the fresh perspective you need."

"That is an equitable compromise," he agreed, getting up to work replicator magic. I used the time it took for him to order dinner to freshen up in his bathroom, and we both returned to the couch at about the same time.

"Tea, also?" I asked, noticing the pair of mugs steaming on the tray he'd set on his coffee table.

"It is later than you typically desire coffee," he pointed out. "And I have seen you pair mint tea with egg dishes before."

"Do you miss _anything_?" I asked, teasing.

"Very little," he answered. "For example, I have observed from your behavior this evening that something is troubling you. Perhaps if you tell me what it is, I can help?"

I sighed softly and looked away from him. "It's stupid," I said. "You took me off your privacy lock…and it…I don't know, they're your quarters, and it's not like I've ever had completely free access, and when you added me in the first place it was because I was basically living with you."

"You _were_ living with me," he corrected, ever so helpfully.

"There's living with and _living with_," I said. "But that's not the point. You didn't bother to take me off your privacy lock when we were just friends, even after I yelled at you. You didn't take me off when I asked for a break – you even asked me to take care of Spot _during_ that break. So, why now, after our relationship has changed so much?"

"There is a reason," he said, "that I would prefer not to reveal just yet, though it will not be long before I do, and I promise it is a temporary condition. I did not realize it would trouble you."

I blushed faintly. "No, because instead of telling you – which I'd normally have done – it was easier to stew over it. I guess…I'm still figuring out where our boundaries are. Anyway, they're your quarters – I know that – I just feel like they've become a home to me, too…and I'm being presumptuous again."

"No, you are not. I am glad that you see this space as a home. When I was first assigned to the _Enterprise_ it was truly just a workspace."

"When did it change?"

"It began when Geordi and I became friends," he said after a brief pause, during which he handed me a plate and silverware and wordlessly encouraged me to eat. "When I created Lal, it was truly a home – one that we shared – but when she had to be deactivated the sense of my personal space as being more than a glorified office was diminished. When you began to visit, and later when we moved your theory lessons here, it seemed like a home again."

"And now?"

"Now, I have a constant reminder that 'home' and 'family' are not fixed concepts, but designations we choose for ourselves, and when my friends – and you – say that you feel 'at home' here, it is…gratifying."

I smiled. "I didn't realize you'd given it that much thought."

"It is a concept that is becoming more relevant as our relationship evolves," he said softly, and I melted a little inside. "Just as the concept of 'family' has been growing in importance. The time I spent with your family was educational."

"I hope you mean that in a good way."

"I had not expected your father and stepmother to accept me so easily."

"Dad has a lot of faults, but he's never been a racist or a bigot," I said. "He's too well traveled and too…well, he's not actually promiscuous any_more_, though Zane is almost as bad as my father _was._ Besides, they accepted you because they know you're important to me. It's what you do, in families. Well, in my family, I guess."

"Your father said as much," Data confirmed.

"In the conversation you won't tell me about."

"In the conversation I will not tell you about, _yet_," he clarified, "and in the conversation we had the night before the trip to Surfside, as we were watching 'home movies.'"

"Home movies?" I nearly aspirated a bite of quiche. "He really did show you those?"

"Yes," he said, and then, reacting to the pointed look I gave him, he elaborated. "I heard movement in the house. Your father was awake feeding David so that Gia could sleep, and he invited me to join him in the media room."

I nodded. "Dad and I both tend to be nocturnal, and whatever else he is, he _tries_ to be a good father."

"We spoke of you, and he asked if you had shared recordings of your theatrical performances."

"I don't have recordings," I told him. "I never watch myself. Too creepy."

"That is a discussion for another time," he said. "In any event, we watched some of your father's 'home movies' of your childhood. I believe he felt guilty for not being a stable parent."

I rolled my eyes at that. "Please. He wasn't the most parental parent, and Mom was away a lot, but despite that, I think I turned out mostly okay."

"I agree. However, that is not the point."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "What _is_ the point, please?"

"Your father was unaware that I had been a parent. When I mentioned that you had asked after my daughter, he suggested I show you some of the recordings." He deftly took my empty plate out of my hands, and then handed me a still-hot mug of tea. "I began to consider how I might go about such a thing. Most of the recordings I made are somewhat clinical. However, I was able to access the ship's onboard surveillance systems and find recordings of Lal in non-clinical situations."

"Wait, there's video of everything we do on the _Enterprise_?"

"There is _not._ Only specific sections of the ship are monitored in that way. I also had a complete memory record of Lal's life in my own memory banks, as well as all of her memories. During my 'down time' while you were still on vacation, I used material from all of those sources to create 'home movies,' to show you."

I could have done without the detailed behind-the-scenes making-of explanation, but it didn't matter, because I'd fixated on the kernel of information he was trying to impart. "You want to show me Lal?"

"Yes."

I resettled myself, curling my legs beneath me, and moving so that I could rest my head against his shoulder. I couldn't wrap an arm around his midsection, as I was holding tea, but I could – and did - relax the arm that otherwise would have been pinned between us, and let my hand fall to rest on his leg. Another time, putting my hand there could have been construed as a sexual overture, but in that context it wasn't anything more than a simple physical connection.

"Okay," I said. "Show me."

He gave the computer the necessary commands to engage the entertainment system, and begin the video. What I saw was a combination of images – Lal's point of view of kissing Commander Riker made me laugh. Lal in school made me cringe, and I was grateful that even though I _had_ been aboard at that time, we had never crossed paths. _Would I have been as cruel as some of those other kids? _I wondered. _Or would I have befriended her? _ I hoped with all my heart that I would have done the latter.

It was interesting, watching them together. I knew the way Data touched me - had, since the holidays, seen a couple of pictures of us - but he was absolutely paternal with her, and I was reassured to notice the differences in the way he touched - had always touched – me. As well, I found it both moving and kind of sexy seeing him actually _being_ a father.

The last few scenes were the cruelest: Lal and Data side by side on his old couch, holding hands. Lal telling him she would feel love for both of them. Lal lying on a worktable in Data's lab as his hands moved faster than I could keep up. It confused me when the last frames were blurry, but then I realized it was because I was crying.

The images faded away, and I knew Data expected me to say something, but I had no words, just feelings. I leaned forward to discard my mug, and then I shifted against him, wrapping him in my arms and hugging him with every ounce of strength I had.

His arms came around me, returning the embrace, and then, with no apparent effort, he had lifted me onto his lap again. It wasn't for a heated make-out session, though, not that night. Instead, I knew, it was about closeness. Connection.

He held me that way – we held each other, really – for several minutes, before I shifted my position, moving to be able to meet his eyes. "Thank you for showing me," I said softly. "Data, she was amazing." _But why show me this now_? I wondered. _This was definitely __**not **__some kind of _quid pro quo_ because he had seen home video of me. _"You're amazing. She was so lucky to have you as a father."

Something I'd said to my mother came echoing back to me…the same comment Zane had made. I wasn't dating a boy. Even if Data was very like an older adolescent in some ways, he had never actually been a boy. I'd known for over a year that he'd been a parent, but actually _seeing_ him in that role, interacting with his daughter made it more _real_. And very adult. And…a little bit intimidating.

I let my hands drop away from his body, and he let me go, as well. "Zoe…?" He made my name into an expression of concern.

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm just a little overwhelmed. Sometimes it feels like we're moving too fast, and sometimes it feels like everything's just crawling and…dating you is vastly different than dating anyone else, ever, even when it's also mostly the same." I reached up to run fingers through his hair, indulging in one of the small liberties I was now allowed. "Do you mind if we call it a night? I know you want to get back to work, even if Counselor Troi thinks you shouldn't, and I think I should go home now, put in some face time with my mother." Staying in my mother's good graces was something that was becoming increasingly important to me, and I was suddenly very tired.

"If you wish," he said, and helped me to my feet. "I would be happy to escort you."

"Naah, this wasn't a date, just a normal Thursday. And you have a language to crack and people to negotiate with and a universe to save, and all that."

I retrieved my padd and the shoes I'd kicked off almost as soon as I'd arrived while he recycled our dishes. We met just inside his door, and when we had our 'goodnight' kiss, it was sweet and tender.

"Thank you for dinner," I said. "And the home movies. I'll see you tomorrow sometime."

"It is likely that we _will_ be able to have class," he said softly.

"Okay." I turned to go, then stopped and turned back. "Hey, Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"If my mother isn't already on your team to figure out how to talk to the Children of Tamar, you should ask her to be. I mean, I know it's not my place to tell you how to do your job, but she's not just a cultural anthropologist. She's also got a special interest in folklore."

"I was not aware of that," he said. "Please tell her to expect my comm."

"I'll do that," I said. "Goodnight."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45051.31**

**(19 January 2368, 18:45 hours, ship's time) **

Data was correct; we did have class the next morning, but everyone dispersed almost immediately afterward. Dana and Josh were off for a picnic in the arboretum, Rryl was having lunch with his father, and Annette said she had a scheduled comm-call with Wesley.

Data was still working on the Tamarian language, and my mother had been called to join the back room team, which basically meant she and a bunch of other people helped with research while Data and Counselor Troi were the faces of the team, interacting with the bridge and the captain.

I didn't mind having lunch alone – sometimes it was nice to sit at the table in our quarters with a book and a sandwich and have fictional characters for company – but when all of my friends begged off our planned Friday afternoon hangout time, I began to feel a little paranoid.

Fortunately, my lit professor, Edouard Benoit – 'Ed' to me and Mom, and 'Prof' to my classmates – rescued me from eating dinner alone as well. "Since Data has your mother in his clutches," he teased when he stopped by our quarters, "it's only fair that I get to steal _his_ girl for the evening."

I laughed, all pitiful feelings instantly gone. "Is it just the two of us, or will Bogart be dining as well?" I asked.

"It's a funny thing," Ed answered. "Guinan's pretty open, but she draws the line when it comes to dogs in Ten-Forward."

"Aww, poor pup. Well, maybe I could visit him, later?"

"Count on it," the dapper older man had said, and we'd gone off to the lounge to share a replicated cassoulet and some really amazing rustic-style bread.

While we ate, we discussed the books I'd been reading outside of class. "I enjoyed the Hemingway you gave me last year," I said. "The way he used language was so intense – simple words, but used so effectively. Is it true he used to write standing up?"

"He did when he was a journalist," Ed confirmed. "I'm fairly certain he used a desk and chair as he got older…and drunker."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Anyway, I liked what he wrote."

"I had a feeling you might," he said. "Contemporary literature is wonderful, but you shouldn't overlook the classics."

"Speaking of classics," I said. "Mom had me doing college applications over the semester break, while I was home on Centaurus…"

"Isn't it a little early for that? You're a second semester junior, aren't you?"

"I am," I confirmed. "But I have enough credits to graduate now if I really wanted to, and when you're on a starship, it takes longer to get applications in – even over subspace – and schedule interviews and stuff. We have to be ready early to accommodate lag. The galaxy isn't exactly tiny, you know?"

Ed chuckled, "I see your point." He called over the server and asked for another glass of wine. "Do you drink, Zoe?" he asked me.

_Well, there was this one time, on Centaurus, with a bonfire and a kamikaze punch bowl, _I didn't tell him. _And then there was the martini I had before my boyfriend's brother groped me in front of a Fedora-wearing Ferengi. _"Sometimes," I said out loud. "Rarely." I also didn't mention stealing sips of Data's beer at my house over the holidays, or of his martini a week before. "'Play drunk, listen sober' doesn't really work for cello," I added, riffing on a quote often attributed to the author we'd been discussing. "Though I did notice that one of the universities I'm considering made a point of listing some of the more popular off-campus pubs."

"Which university?"

"Yale," I said. "Also on my list of options: Harvard, Princeton, Brown, Stanford, The Martian, and Osiris U."

"You weren't kidding about classics," he said. "Not the Sorbonne? Not Berkeley? Not NYU?" He listed the schools with which he had some sort of affiliation.

"_Not_ that you're biased?" I asked, matching his linguistic pattern.

"_Not_ at all," he shot back, and I grinned. "Listen, Zoe, I didn't really invite you to dinner to talk about your college plans. Not that I'm averse to giving advice, but…"

"I get it," I said. "College plans were just a red herring." I stole a phrase from an ancient video he, Mom, and I had watched one night on vacation the previous summer. "So, why are you really here?"

To his credit, he didn't evade or stammer, just met my eyes and said honestly, "I want to marry your mother."

"Shouldn't you be telling her that?"

"I have," he said. "We've been discussing it for quite some time, but we wanted to have a plan. As you know, your mother has committed to remaining on the _Enterprise _until you've finished high school."

"I'm aware," I said. "But whether or not Mom accepts your proposal – I mean, I'm assuming you proposed? I suppose she might have."

"I haven't yet. Officially. Your mother was very concerned about the way your father handled things with Gia."

"Wait, there was handling? I don't remember handling. I remember finding out my father had a new girlfriend in front of all my friends."

"That was my point. Your mother made it clear to me that you were to be included from the start."

"Like a threesome?" I teased. "_Kinky_."

"Zoe, are you trying to embarrass me?" he seemed truly perturbed.

I sat up straighter in my chair. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just playing with you a little. Consider it a tolerance test. Or something."

"Or something?"

I delayed my answer as two orders of crème brûlée were delivered to our table, with tiny mugs of espresso. Well, mine was actually a cortado, but whatever.

"So, young man," I began while I cracked the caramelized sugar crust of my dessert, "What _are _your intentions toward my mother?" I used an imperious tone as I asked the question.

"I'd like to marry her, Zoe. I'd like to ensure that you approve, that you support her – and me – and that you'll feel part of the family."

I dropped the imperious tone. "Well…" I began. "Do you mind answering a few questions?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really, no."

"Fire away, Ms. Harris."

"Will you make her happy?" I asked.

"I will do my best."

"Are you prepared to deal with the fact that Starfleet careers often mean long separations?"

"I believe so, though I should add that your mother will be requesting a transfer to a position on Earth."

I hadn't known that, but it made sense. I'd been getting the impression that my mother was ready for a slightly more sedate life. Or at least a more stationery one.

"When I was six, would you have bought me a pony?"

"Absolutely," he said, smiling.

"Good answer," I grinned back. "One more thing?" He nodded, and I continued. "Don't make me sing at the wedding without asking me first. My father 'volunteered' me for his, and I really wasn't happy about it."

"I think we have a bargain," Ed laughed. "Let's toast on it."

He was out of wine, and I'd read that it was bad luck to toast with water, so we each scooped spoons of crème brûlée and raised them in tribute. Or something.

We finished our dessert with more casual chatter, and then we went to hang out with Bogart for a while. The dog seemed unusually interested in me, but I quickly realized, "It's because I smell like cat."

"Data's cat?"

"Spot thinks my hair is an endless supply of macramé yarn," I explained. "She's going to pull it all out, one piece at a time."

Ed laughed. "I doubt that. But it's another reason I prefer dogs."

"Don't tell Data," I said, "but, so do I."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45053.29**

**(Saturday, 20 January 2368, 12:10 hours, ship's time)**

If I'd been mildly suspicious about all my friends bailing on me the day before, I was absolutely suspicious when Data contacted me at eight on Saturday morning to apologetically cancel our music session because of a 'personal project,' one he declined to share the details of.

I knew it would be useless to attempt to wheedle information from him, just as I knew he was telling me the truth, so I did what any self-respecting about-to-be-seventeen-year-old would do: I went back to bed for a serious sleeping-in session.

Around noon, my mother came into my room and woke me up. "Hey, birthday girl," she greeted.

"You of all people should remember that my birthday isn't actually until tomorrow," I said.

"Oh, I know," she answered. "I'm actually here on a mission, of sorts. Mind if I sit down?"

I sat up in my bed, and scooted back against the pillows. "Go for it."

She sat down and patted my knee through the covers. "Zoificus, you're not a little girl anymore."

"Not to burst your bubble, Mom, but…kinda knew that." Something in her expression softened my auto-snark. "Sorry…what's this about, really?"

"Well, first, Data asked me to make sure that you were willing and ready to go on a date with him at eight tonight."

"I had a feeling he was up to something," I grinned. "Did he happen to mention any kind of dress code?"

"He said something about a red dress you bought at a boutique in Beach Haven?"

"Oh…okay, yeah, I brought that back to the ship with me."

"There's more."

"What, I take him on one shopping trip and he wants to decide which shoes I wear, too?" I was teasing, mostly.

"No. The 'more' isn't from him. It's from me."

"Well, I know a pony isn't in the offing."

"No, kiddo, it's not," Mom agreed, smiling. Too soon, her expression faded into something more sober. "Watching you and Data since you've been home has been an educational experience, Zoe. You're so connected to each other…I worry you're moving too fast, too soon."

It crossed my mind to tell her that sometimes I felt that way too, at the same time I felt that things weren't moving fast _enough_, but I stayed silent and let her continue.

"When I spoke to Data last summer, your relationship was nothing like it is now, was it?"

"We were good friends," I said. "And I was crushing on him, but that's it. Why?"

"Because I extracted a promise from him I had no right to ask for."

"Yeah, you did," I agreed. "I yelled at you about it already. And…and Data and I had quite an intense conversation about it as well."

"When Data asked me to help him with his…project…today, we talked again."

"So, how much more of my life did you two plan without asking first?"

"Only the part where your curfew is two AM on school nights," my mother said softly. "Fridays and Saturdays, as long as I know where you are, you're own your own recognizance." She took a breath and added, "I still think you should wait." She put up a hand, stopping me from interrupting. "Sweetie, I know you're not a virgin, but I also know that this relationship is different. You don't have to rush anything."

"Data and I have talked about it, Mom…or started to. I know we're going to be intimate in that way eventually. I also know _neither_ of us is really ready. He may be older, but…when it comes to relationships, he's kind of…" I trailed off. It really wasn't appropriate for me to say more. Instead, I paused a moment before asking, "Are you seriously telling me that if I'm with Data having tea, and it gets late, I'm allowed to crash there, if he invites me?"

"Something like that."

"Mom, is it weird if I talk to you about my relationship with him? I mean…he's sort of your boss, but there are things I can't talk about with my friends."

"Anything in particular?" I saw concern in her eyes.

"He showed me…he basically made home movies of his daughter for me to see."

"You mean Lal?"

I nodded. "Did you ever meet her?"

"Once, briefly. She seemed lovely. I think you would have liked her."

"I hope so. Some of the video he had was…the kids here weren't very nice to her."

"Kids can be cruel," Mom agreed. "But you…even at your snarkiest, you're not cruel."

"Well, not usually," I allowed. "Anyway, seeing her…seeing _him_ actually being a parent…it was sweet, and it was – sorry, Mom – a little sexy, but it was also overwhelming. I mean, so many people – me included, sometimes – treat him like he's not the officer – the _man_ – he really is. And then...he'll do this thing that reminds me how much _more_ he is than I'll ever be."

"Than any of us will," she said softly. "You have a lot to navigate, both of you, in this relationship."

"I know this," I said. "This, I know."

"You're not obligated to stay with him, Zoe. If it's too much, or if you feel like you're in over your head…"

I shook my head. "It's too late for that, Mom. We're…we're too connected. He told me I was basically a part of his programming, and he's become part of me." She gave me a look, and I added, "Believe me, I know how hokey that sounds." Then I took a breath, and voiced the words to her that I hadn't yet shared with the man in question. "I love him, Mom. I mean, I'm _in_ love with him, but also…I just...love him."

"Have you told him that?"

"Not yet." I held up a hand, to stop _her_ from interrupting. "You don't have to tell me that he can't say it back. I already know this. But he's already told me in…well…Data-speak, I guess – android-ese? – whatever. He's already made it very clear..." I faltered again, and finally decided on a different tack. "I know what I mean to him. Sometimes the little things scare me a little, but the big picture stuff? It never does."

My mother was silent for a long time. "Is it wrong that I sometimes wish you were still young enough to be happy with dolls and horses?"

"I never liked dolls," I reminded her. "Although, the next time I see a Starfleet Commander action figure, I'm totally buying it and painting it gold, and giving it to Data as a joke."

"Zoe…"

"Sorry. And thanks for listening," I said. "I have the best mother ever." I leaned forward and hugged her.

She hugged me back, laughing softly. "I'm pretty sure I got the better end of the deal even so."

She stayed a few more minutes, and then patted my knee again and left. "Eight o'clock," she reminded me. "Twenty-hundred hours."

"I know," I said. "I wouldn't miss it – whatever it is – for the galaxy." I hunkered back under the covers, though, to doze a little longer, imagining a night in Data's quarters like the night we'd shared after my brother was born, and wishing for the day when heated kisses didn't have to…stop.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45054.18**

**(Saturday, 20 January 2368, 20:00 hours, ship's time)**

"Surprise!" "Happy Birthday!"

The lights in holodeck two came up to reveal a reproduction of my favorite café, the Red Sands Coffee in Beach Haven. Standing around the room were Mom and Ed, and all my friends – as well as some of the officers I'd gotten to know – Geordi, Reg, and Counselor Troi prominent among them.

"Oh, god! This is awesome!" I turned to my escort, who had shown up at my door just before eight wearing another of the outfits we'd picked out together, this time a deep blue – almost midnight - shirt and soft black trousers. "This?" I asked him. "This was your 'personal project,' Data?"

"Yes," he said as I hugged him. "Happy birthday, Zoe." His arms came around me, meeting my embrace.

"Best boyfriend ever," I whispered softly, "Promise me we'll have some time alone, though, later?"

He surprised me by pressing a light kiss to my lips. "Of course."

"Data?" I asked my tone still soft. "I thought you said…"

"This is a private party," he reminded me, "and I am not in uniform." His voice was also soft. "Our guests are waiting."

"_Our_ guests?" I asked wryly.

"Yes. I am hosting this party, but it is _for_ you. Therefore the guests are…ours."

I laughed and stepped away from him. "Did you program a decent barista? I haven't had caffeine yet today?"

It turned out that not only had Data programmed a barista who could pull shots and froth milk with the best of them, but the food menu was just as good as the drinks being created. With my friends' input, he had also arranged for a selection of board games and for acoustic guitar versions of some of my favorite music to be playing in the background. It was a low-key party, but then, seventeen is a low-key birthday, and having several hours just to hang out with my friends was worth more than anything louder or noisier could ever have been.

Two hours later, I was in the process of introducing Reg and Geordi to _Objects and Obfuscation_, and half-listening while Deanna and Ed played _Starship Conundrum _at the next table, along with Annette and Dana, when the lights began to gently dim.

"Ah!" I heard Data's voice from the table on the other side of mine, where he, Josh, Rryl, and my mother were playing _Infinite Fluxx_. "It is time for the cake and presents."

We all pitched in, pushing two of the larger tables together, and re-arranging the chairs around it. The cake appeared, borne by two holo-baristas, but there were only three candles on it. I glanced at Data, "Are we counting my age in some weird numbering system I'm not aware of?"

"We are not," he said. "The candles are symbolic, representative of the past, the present, and the future."

"You came up with that?"

My answer came in the form of a brief nod, and then people started singing.

The cake, it should be noted, was dark chocolate mousse with orange filling.

The presents were pretty much what I expected. Music and games from the boys, earrings and a really adorable top from Annette, and art from Dana, whose watercolors were gallery-worthy after her summer of art and design intensives. Counselor Troi gave me perfume and a collection of meditation techniques, Lt. Barclay had given me an upgrade to the night surfing program – bigger waves and options for different oceans – and Geordi gave me six hours in the basic shuttle simulator.

"What, flitter lessons weren't scary enough for you?" I teased.

"You don't have to be in Starfleet to have a shuttle license," he responded in a friendly-but-serious tone. "And I heard a rumor you might be gallivanting around the universe for your own reasons fairly soon. Can't hurt to pick up a new skill."

"_You_ just want me to invite you the farm to meet Bertha," I accused.

"Who is Bertha?" Data asked.

"I'll explain later," I promised him. To Geordi I said, "Thank you. Can we maybe not take almost a year this time?"

His laughter was all the answer I needed.

Ed gave me another data solid of classic literature while Mom gave me a messenger bag with a vintage coffee poster printed on it. "I know you might not need it on the _Enterprise_," she told me, "but it felt like you, and you _will _need it when you're at Idyllwild this summer."

"I can go?" I asked. "Really? You're letting me take the contract?"

"We still need to finalize the emancipation agreement – and no, it won't affect you finishing school here – but yes, you can go."

I got up and hugged her, but then I turned back to Data. Android or not, there was something, some subtle _thing_ in his eyes, in his face, that wasn't entirely joyful. I sat back down and slipped my hand into his, and squeezed. He met my eyes, and squeezed my hand back, gently, and handed me a package with the other hand.

The box was of the size and shape that usually meant jewelry, but I was pretty sure it wasn't. At least, I hoped it wasn't. I didn't want Data giving me jewelry in public, not yet. I opened it, and was immediately relieved to find that it wasn't anything embarrassing. Instead, it was a card promising a seventeen-lesson course in social dancing. There was also a data solid.

"Dance lessons?"

"Not every partner will be kind enough to count for you," he teased.

"Thank you," I said. "What's on the solid?"

"The program for this café, should you wish to use it again."

The party devolved into conversation, after that, and finally broke up completely around midnight. Data and I packed all my gifts into the messenger bag. My friends all hugged me as they left, and Mom and Ed both did as well, the former whispering, "Brunch tomorrow, Ten-Forward, eleven-thirty. Look in that bag when you get to…" She glanced in Data's direction, and I nodded.

Counsellor Troi hugged me as well, explaining that Commander Riker had volunteered to command the bridge so that Data could host the party for me. "Tell him I said thank you," I told her. "And bring him some cake."

"He'll appreciate that," she said.

"Can we talk on Monday or Tuesday?"

"I'll send a message with my schedule," she promised. "Happy birthday, Zoe. It's good to see you happy."

I grinned at her. "Yeah, I am."

Finally it was just Data and me, and I walked over to where he was still gathering gifts and packing them. I hugged him from behind, and then we moved to embrace more properly. "Thank you," I said. "For the party, for everything."

"You are welcome, Zoe."

"Can I do anything, or are you ready to go?"

"I must recycle the leftover cake," he said.

"Isn't there a way we could take it home? My family has this tradition of eating leftover cake for breakfast the day after someone's birthday."

"That does not seem like a healthy practice."

"Oh, it's not. But it's a delicious one."

He replicated a portable 'fresher unit. "I will carry the cake," he said, "if you will carry your bag."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45054.82**

**(Sunday, 21 January 2368, 01:32 hours, ship's time)**

Spot didn't deign to leave the couch when we returned to Data's quarters, but she did look up for a few seconds, as if to say, "Oh, it's _them._"

Data placed the cake on his table, and I moved toward the couch so I could kick off the heels I'd chosen to wear, freezing as I realized his easel was out, and that there was a painting resting on it., covered with a cloth. "Am I allowed to peek at what you're working on?" I asked.

"It is the rest of your present," he said. "And yes, you may look, there is no 'peeking' necessary."

I lifted away the cloth and came face to face with…us. Well images of us. He was standing behind me in the picture, and had his arm wrapped around my waist. We were both in civilian clothes – party clothes – and the window behind us looked familiar. "Data…this is from New Year's Eve."

"Yes," he said.

"You didn't paint this from memory, did you?"

"I did not."

"Then how…?"

"One of the photographers documenting the party took the picture and your father sent it to me. I thought you would appreciate it more…this way."

"You painted us," I said, marveling. I turned the easel to face the couch, and went to sit, but continued to stare at the picture. "You painted _us._"

"Yes, Zoe." He came to join me, but his next words were almost hesitant. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" I pulled my attention from Data's artwork and focused on Data himself. "I love it. I love _you_." His eyes widened, and mine felt like they were saucers. "I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have said –"

"Do not apologize," he said softly, cutting me off. "Do not ever apologize for what you feel."

"I wasn't going to tell you…"

"Because you knew you would not hear the same words in reply?" His question was asked in a gentle tone, and he reached for me, pulling slightly so I would move into the curve of his body. "If I could feel love, Zoe, do you not believe I would feel it for you?"

"I know you would," I said. In that moment, I was absolutely certain of it.

"I have suspected that you felt this way since before the holidays," he said, making the time vague again. But then he specified, "I have wondered for four weeks, three days, and twenty point six seven hours why you did not tell me. I decided that you were simply not yet ready."

"Partly," I said softly, half-noticing that he was stroking light fingers up and down my bare arm. "But partly, it was because those words are hard enough to say when you know you'll hear them back. So, I was protecting myself. And partly," I admitted, "it's because whenever I respond to something emotionally, or I've turned to you for support you act as though you're somehow…lacking…because you don't – can't – respond in kind. And I didn't want to be the cause of that perception, Data, because I don't feel a lack of anything in our relationship."

"Zoe." He breathed my name in a tone that was laced with something like wonder, and he kissed the top of my head. "I have given much consideration to the way I would answer if you gave me those words. I do not have a pithy response to offer, nor can I give you a three-word reply. Instead, I will tell you this: I experience a sense of loss when you are absent from my presence, and a keener one when you are not aboard the _Enterprise_. Even though I can estimate to the nanosecond when you are likely to arrive at my door, I count the moments until you are actually here."

I felt my breath hitch in response to his words and his fingers on my skin. "Data…"

"I am not finished," he said. Then he continued his litany. "I devote time to you even when that time would be more productive if devoted to the ship. I consider you, and your thoughts, even when your input should be irrelevant to my task or opinion. I allow you to distract me from my duties. You make me less efficient, but I do not accept the logic that would remove you from my presence or alter our relationship. You – your presence in my life and the relationship we have – have become necessary to my ability to function."

"Oh, Data…" Tears were streaming down my face, I was pretty sure my mascara was running, and I didn't care.

"I have made you cry," he observed quietly. "There is a seventy-three percent chance that you will run from me, because I have made you cry." His voice got even softer. "Please do not."

"Happy tears," I managed to say. "These are _happy_ tears, Data. No more running from you."

In movies and holo-vids, whenever couples declare their love, they end up having sex. The truth is that sex was the furthest thing from my mind that night. It was enough just to sit with Data's arms around me, to lean my head against his shoulder, to just _be_ with him.

Emotional revelations are kind of exhausting, though, especially when you're processing them on only sugar and caffeine, so it wasn't long before I began drifting to sleep. He must have noticed the change in my breathing, or felt my muscles relax, because his voice calling my name woke me. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so tired."

"It has been an eventful evening," he said, still speaking softly. "My bed is yours if you wish to stay."

"I'd like that," I said. "I need to wash my face though."

"You know where everything is," he reminded me. "Go prepare for bed."

I left my shoes on the living room floor and padded through his bedroom to the bathroom, where I washed my face and rinsed my mouth out. I started to unzip my dress, but then I realized that I hadn't brought anything resembling sleepwear. I opened the door, "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"Do you have a t-shirt or pajama top I can borrow? I don't want to sleep in this dress, and…I'm not quite ready for total nudity with you." Fatigue always took away my filter.

He didn't seem at all phased by what I'd said. "I have both. Which would you prefer?"

"That depends, are you sharing the bed with me?" I knew he didn't need sleep. I had a feeling he wouldn't mind working in bed that night.

"If I am welcome."

"It's _your_ bed," I reminded him. "Of course you're welcome."

He came to the door, and I saw that he was already wearing the pajamas he'd worn at my house on Centaurus. Well, he was wearing the bottoms. His chest was bare, and I couldn't help staring at the expanse of smooth, sculptured gold. He offered me the top. "My studies of typical human relationships have shown me that many couples 'share' their nightwear," he said.

I took the soft blue cotton shirt from him, retreated to the bathroom, and changed into it, leaving my dress hanging on the towel bar. His shirt was long enough that it wasn't entirely scandalous worn over just panties.

Data already had the bed turned down when I emerged, and a glass of water was waiting on the side I'd slept on the last time we'd shared a bed. On his side, I noticed, were a stack of padds and a length of fiber-optic cable.

I met him near the foot of the bed, and I couldn't help it. I reached out and put my hands flat against his bare skin, and then stretched up to kiss him. Not the heated kisses we'd been sharing – I was way too tired for that – but a proper goodnight kiss nevertheless.

He didn't extinguish the lights until we were both in the bed, me settled against his chest. "You can work if you need to," I said. "It won't bother me."

"Not yet," he said. "Computer, reduce lights by ninety percent."

I closed my eyes, and just enjoyed being close to him, feeling the soft, steady thrum of his pulse. "G'night, Data," I murmured, drifting off.

"Happy birthday…my Zoe." His words were the last thing I was conscious of for several hours.

* * *

**Notes: **Sorry for the long delay. A broken laptop, an intense project, and a serious knee injury have conspired against me, and then my own birthday happened on the 17th, and I didn't want that to color Zoe's experience. No music notes, except to point out that the opening quote about enharmonics is absolutely relevant to this chapter. The games referenced in the chapter have already been included in notes on other chapters, except _Infinite Fluxx_, which is basically every version of Fluxx over 4 centuries…combined. The 'red herring' line that Zoe uses in her conversation with Ed is, of course, a riff on the movie _Clue_. The use of only three candles on cakes for non-landmark birthdays after the age of fifteen is my own family tradition. Ditto leftover cake for breakfast. Spans the episode "Darmok." Special thanks to **saya4haji** for help with Data's response at the end.


	16. Fermata

**Disclaimer: ****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

**_Please note: This chapter is absolutely a hard 'T' rating. _**

* * *

**Fermata**

_A __**fermata**__ [fer__ˈ__ma__ː__ta] (also known as a hold, pause, colloquially a birdseye or cyclops eye, or as a grand pause when placed on a note or a rest) is a symbol of musical notation indicating that the note should be prolonged beyond its normal duration or note value would indicate._

**Stardate 45055.51**

**(Sunday, 21 January 2368, 07:36 hours, ship's time)**

I woke up in near darkness in an unfamiliar bed, but the room was anything but unfamiliar, and neither was the man who was currently pressed up against my back. I'd fallen asleep with my head on his bare shoulder, and now he was spooning me. I smiled into the dimly lit room, and then breathed his name. "Data…?"

"I did not mean to wake you," he said keeping his voice low, perhaps in deference to the lack of illumination. "If I am too close to you, or you are uncomfortable in this position, I will –"

"You're not," I said, cutting him off. "And…I'm not. This is nice." I was pleasantly muzzy, in that state where I could happily have gone back to sleep, or equally happily stayed awake. Well, maybe not entirely equally. "We could make it nicer," I said softly.

The innuendo was not lost on him. His hand twitched, grazing the underside of my breast through the cloth of the pajama top I'd borrowed from him, but he said. "While sexual intimacy with you is an appealing prospect, I do not believe either of us is quite…ready." I felt him hesitate for the briefest of moments. "At least, I am not."

I took a moment to analyze my own needs and wants and realized I still wasn't as ready as I'd thought I was. "No," I said. "I guess you're right…but…"

"What is it, Zoe? You know you can ask me anything."

"Alright," I said softly. "Lift your arm for a minute, this conversation should be face to face."

He did so, and I turned over so that I was facing him, smiling when he lowered his arm, resting his hand against my hip. In the low light, I could barely make out his features, but I found his head unerringly, stretched to kiss him, and then mussed his hair as I resettled myself.

"Computer, increase illumination by fifteen percent." The lights came slightly up. "You were going to ask a question," he prompted me.

"There are a lot of reasons why I'm not quite ready for sex with you. It's too much, too soon, and I worry about our being together reflecting badly on you. But also," I took a breath. "This is going to sound utterly ridiculous, because I'm seventeen and no one finds the love of her life when she's seventeen…not in our world, anyway…but…you're not one-night-stand-guy, and you're not fling-guy. You're long-term-relationship-guy. Maybe even forever-guy. And I don't want to mess this – mess _us_ – up."

"I do not wish to 'mess us up' either," he said softly. "But what is your question?"

"Why aren't _you_ ready? Is it something I'm doing wrong, or…something else?"

His hand left my hip to tangle in my hair, and we shared another kiss before he answered. "You are doing nothing wrong, Zoe. It is…are you certain you wish to have this conversation in our bed?"

I wasn't sure if he could see my eyebrows go up, but I knew he'd hear my inflection. "_Our_ bed?"

"Is it not?" His tone was completely guileless. "Zoe, you are the only person who slept in my old bed, and the only woman I foresee sharing this one. If you wish to move this conversation to the couch, or the table, I will understand."

I thought about moving, and discarded the idea. "I'm comfortable here," I said. "Some things are easier to talk about when you're cuddled in the dark with the person you love, and honestly, the last thing I want right now is distance from you, even if we're talking less than a meter."

"Very well," he said. "Do you recall our conversation about Tasha Yar?"

"I remember. Is this the part where you tell me I'm competing with a ghost?"

"No, Zoe. It is 'the part' where I tell you that the morning after our…encounter…she told me that 'it never happened' and that we would never speak of it again."

"Oh, Data…" I pressed my hand to his chest. "I hope you know I would _never_ do that."

"I do know that you would never deny or negate anything we experience together, but you did run from me in tears after we shared kisses, and that is not a scenario I care to repeat."

"No," I agreed. "Me either. If it helps at all, I was never running from you; I was running from me. From feelings I didn't think I was supposed to feel, from the thought that I'd pushed you too far…and the second time…I was hurt and angry and didn't know how to handle it, but it was…it was never you."

"Last night when I told you not to apologize for what you feel, I meant emotions like anger, as well. While I cannot experience anger, I have had practice in 'talking people down' from it. You must learn to be angry with me without fleeing from my presence, and to let me help you through it."

I used his phrase, from when he left me on New Year's Day: "I promise to try." We were both quiet for a moment, and then a thought struck me, and I asked, "Data…was Tasha your first?"

"No," he answered, and his hand went to my hip again, as if holding me would soften what he was about to say. "

"Tasha was my friend, and she was special to me because our…encounter…while brief, was the first time I experienced sexual intimacy with someone who wanted me for _me_, and not just to find out what it would be like to…." He trailed off, and I had the impression he was searching his memory for a specific quote. "…to 'fuck a robot.'"

The coarse language – especially jarring, coming from him – and the implication that he'd been used that way made me gasp. "Data, that's awful."

"It was not 'all bad,'" he said. "While I learned that I am capable of sexual function, I also learned that even scientific curiosity does not outweigh my need to be treated as a person."

"You _are _a person," I grumbled. "And anyone who doesn't think so…"

He interrupted me. "You do not have to defend me, Zoe, though I appreciate the sentiment." He hesitated for over a second, before he said softly, "You are not the only one of us who wishes for a future together."

"What?" I nearly hissed the word.

"You have asked what your father and I talked about. You surmised that he asked about my intentions toward you, and you were not mistaken. I told him that I _believed_ our association may be permanent, but that planning beyond the next few weeks would be premature. I told him that for now, I wish to simply be with you, to explore the relationship we already have, and to deepen the connection we have already established."

"You said that to my father and he didn't threaten to take you apart and sink the pieces into the eleven seas of Centaurus?" I was boggling a little. More than a little.

"He did not. He merely reminded me that you were young, but that he believed – as I do – that you know your own mind."

I lifted my hand from his chest to run my fingers through his hair but when I moved to kiss him, a yawn took over. "Oh, god, I'm sorry," I said, embarrassed.

"Do not be, it is only six point three minutes after eight hundred hours. We are not due at brunch until eleven-thirty hours. Go back to sleep; I will wake you in time to get ready."

"You're coming to brunch?"

"Your mother invited me specifically."

"That was nice of her; should we bring the leftover cake?" I yawned again. "I need to turn over."

He lifted his arm again and I turned onto my other side. I expected him to roll back the other way, continue working on whatever had kept him busy while I'd been sleeping before but his arm came around me again. "Computer, reduce illumination to previous level." The lights dimmed down to the near-darkness I'd awakened to.

"I love you, Data," I told him.

I wasn't expecting a response, especially after the paragraphs he'd given me the night before, but he surprised me again. "I am devoted to you, Zoe."

I smiled into the dark room, and covered his hand – the one resting against me – with my own. I twined my fingers through his, my palm to the back of his hand, and lifted slightly, guiding his hand to my breast. His breathing altered slightly, but he didn't object, and I was silent for more than a minute, hovering in that sweet place on the edge of sleep.

Something he'd said earlier came echoing back to me. "Appealing, really?"

"Appealing," he said. "Really. Go to sleep."

I happily complied.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45055.84**

**(Sunday, 21 January 2368, 10:30 hours, ship's time) **

Data woke me with a kiss and a cup of coffee. "It is ten-thirty, Zoe. If you wish to have a 'proper' shower, you must wake up now."

"Are you always going to wake me up this way?" I asked, only half-teasing. "Because I could _so_ get used to this."

"Only on mornings when you wake up here," he said, perfectly seriously. "I believe your mother would object to personalized coffee service in your bedroom."

I stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Gold star for the frowsy guy," I said noting his mussed (from my fingers as much as the pillows) hair and rumpled pajama bottoms, and then noticing his bare feet and the scattering of hair peeking up from his waistband – like his eyebrows it was just a couple of shades off from his skin - and forming a faint line up to his navel. "Frowsy and all kinds of sexy," I said. "Remind me again why we're waiting?"

"I am going to assume that was a rhetorical question," he responded. "In any case, even if we were _not_ waiting to experience mutual sexual gratification, we would be late for brunch with your mother and Professor Benoit."

"Ed," I corrected, interrupting him.

"Excuse me?"

"He's not your professor, and he's likely to be my stepfather someday soon. That makes the two of you practically family. I had the impression you two had become friends, of a sort. You should call him Ed. I mean, _I_ do, even when I'm sitting in his class."

"You consider Professor – Ed – to be family?"

"No, I consider _you_ to be family. I consider Ed to be…family-adjacent" I got out of the bed. "Am I allowed to use water for my shower?"

"Of course, Zoe."

I headed to the bathroom bringing my half-finished coffee with me. Just before the door closed behind me, I tossed Data's pajama top at him. "Thanks for this," I said, favoring him with a saucy grin.

The look on his face was one more birthday present for me.

**(=A=)**

I was half-expecting Ed to propose to my mother at brunch, but I realized he'd never do such a thing on my birthday. Instead, the four of us shared a cozy meal, and talked about literature. Ed suggested that I give Sherlock Holmes another chance, teasing me with information about his creator – Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle – and his love of the occult.

"He believed in fairies, Zoe, and used to hold séances. That should appeal to your dark side."

"I'd tell you I don't believe in fairies, but I'm pretty sure if I did you'd start quoting _Peter Pan_ at me," I told him. "But séances are cool. What did he use? Medium? Crystal ball? Ouija board?"

"Both," Ed said. "Or, all, I suppose. At different times. But how do _you_ know about Ouija boards."

"Ouija board…" Data was repeating the phrase as if he were searching for something to connect it with. "Ah. Talking board, spirit board, witch board. I can understand why it is something Zoe would find interesting. She 'likes' the dark."

"You know me too well," I teased lightly. "As to how I know…Gran had one. When my cousins and I would stay at the farm, she'd declare no-tech days from time to time. Actually, there was one month when she got so fed up with all of us glued to padds and vids and games that she instituted Rolling for Technology."

"Rolling for Technology?" Data repeated, making my capitalization audible. "Please elaborate."

"She took a ten-sided dice – die? –" I glanced at him for confirmation. "Die. And every morning we'd gather around the kitchen table and roll it. High numbers allowed us to have more recent technology. Low numbers set our allowable tech level at that of different periods in time. We rolled a 'one' once and were terrified she'd refuse to let us use indoor plumbing – there's an outhouse on the farm, but it's mostly there as a joke. She didn't disallow it, but we had to make all our meals outside on the grill that day, and we only used the storm lanterns for illumination after dark."

"I remember you complaining about that visit," my mother said, her gushy mom-look evident on her face. "You got mad when I supported the idea."

"Yeah, at first, but then we all started liking it. The second time we got an extremely low-tech roll, it was a stormy day, so we lit a fire to ward off the dampness and Gran dragged her Ouija board out of the attic. She told us this great story about how she had a friend who was from a race of Listeners, and they'd imbued the board with the ability to listen to the spirit world."

"There are such races," Data said. "Guinan's people are known as Listeners. However, I do not believe she or any of her them are able to hear messages from the deceased, or imbue a painted board with the ability to communicate with ghosts or spirits." His tone implied that he was perplexed. Was it wrong that I thought he was adorable when something perplexed him?

"No, and none of us really believed it either; it's just fun to pretend," I explained. "It's why I like horror, remember? It's _fun_ to be scared, when you know it's not real." I waited a beat. "Besides, the Parker Brother's name and logo are right on the bottom of the board. Kinda takes the magic away when you notice that. Besides we were kids. We asked the board things like 'Will I marry the celebrity I'm crushing on?'"

Mom and Ed both chuckled. Data gave me a look that clearly meant he'd didn't quite understand what was funny, but wasn't going to ask just then.

Guinan stopped by our table to see how we were doing and wish me a happy birthday. "I'm sorry I was unable to attend your party," she said, and then she looked at me very sharply as if she was hearing a message from someone or something beyond our comprehension. All she added was, "Zoe, Data, it's good to see you two together."

Somehow, I think we all knew she wasn't talking about proximity.

Data opened his mouth, but I don't know what he would have replied, because his comm-badge chirped, and he tapped it. "Data here."

"Mr. Data, I'm sorry to intrude on your personal time, but the transport carrying the first wave of the Melona colonists is due to rendezvous, and your assistance would be appreciated." The words came in the captain's polite-but-crisp inflection.

"Acknowledged, sir," Data answered. "I am on my way." He rose from the table and thanked Mom for including him in the meal. I wasn't expecting him to kiss me – he was in uniform and we were in public, but he bent to brush a light kiss across my lips anyway, followed by the whispered word, "Etudes." Having a sort of in-joke with him helped me feel less like the entire lounge was watching us, because the reality was…no one was paying much attention at all.

"Zoe, I will be on duty for the rest of the day. Feel free to collect your belongings at your convenience. If you do not mind checking Spot's water, I would appreciate it."

"I don't mind," I said, understanding the implication. I was back on his privacy lock.

**(=A=)**

Counselor Troi caught up with me as I was leaving Ten-Forward. Mom and Ed were lingering over one more cup of coffee, and I wanted to get my birthday gifts from Data's quarters and change into something other than what I was wearing – the shirt he'd been wearing at my party, belted over my dress.

"Interesting outfit," she observed, her voice tinged with humor.

"Mmm, it's a Zata original," I quipped. "Just picked it from this year's look book."

"'Zata?'" she asked laughing. "I like that. How much shopping did you two do while he was on Centaurus?"

"Not that much, really. A few shirts, a couple of pairs of pants, sandals - he tried to wear them with socks, at first. I made him skip the board shorts; it wasn't a good look for him. But about the outfit. I hadn't planned to spend the night, and while my mother had tucked clean underwear, makeup and a hair brush into the messenger bag she gave me, it didn't occur to her that actual clothes would have been useful."

"So you improvised. You wear his shirt well."

"Not as well as he did," I teased. She responded with a grin and a slight nod.

The turbo-lift came and we both entered it. "Deck eight," she instructed. "Zoe…?"

"Same," I said. "I have to retrieve all my birthday gifts. And the leftover cake."

"You know," she said, "if you're willing to share the cake, we could talk today instead of scheduling something for tomorrow or Tuesday."

I grinned, "You'll do anything for chocolate, won't you?"

"Not quite," she said. "It's up to you, of course. If you have somewhere to be…?"

"My only definite plan is meeting Ray for swimming at five, but I really want to get home and change as soon as I can."

"Ray?"

"Ensign Barnett. Wesley tried to set us up the day I first met Lore, right after T'vek left the ship, but the timing was bad, and then after that, he sort of adopted me as his little sister. I needed a physical education credit for school, he's a certified swimming instructor, and being a better swimmer and diver only makes me a better surfer."

"You love the water," she observed.

"My parents used to say I was half-mermaid," I told her, echoing what my father had told Data.

Troi laughed at that. "I can just imagine."

"Would it be okay if we didn't talk today?" I asked. "I'm having a really good day and I don't want to analyze it to death." I entered Data's quarters, and she followed me in, pausing to look at the painting of him and me. "That was the rest of my birthday present," I said.

"It's lovely."

"He actually asked me if I liked it," I said, gathering my things back into the messenger bag. "I told him I loved it, and loved him, and he said…"

"He said he didn't love you back?" Troi guessed. She went to sit on his couch, and patted the cushion next to me. An invitation.

Suddenly, I _did_ want to talk, after all. I replicated plates and silverware, cut two pieces of cake, and joined her on the couch. "Here," I passed her one of the plates. "Actually, Data asked me if I believed that he would feel love for me, if he could."

"Do you?"

"I _know _he would." I said. "He went on with a litany of things –." I repeated the words he'd given me. After, all, when an android gives you a paragraph that is basically telling you he loves you without saying those three words, you tend to remember them.

"That sounds like a rather intense conversation."

"Yeah, but it was good intense, just like this morning in bed."

"You and Data are …"

I shook my head. "Not yet. He's not ready to go there yet, and neither am I. He just stayed in the bed and worked on padds or through a link to the computer, while I slept. It wasn't the first time we'd shared a bed that way," I said, and I went on, backtracking all the way to the shuttle trip to Centaurus a month before, and everything that had changed since then.

"And then I told him he wasn't the kind of guy you have a fling with –." She chuckled, and I asked her, "What?"

"Nothing, Zoe, it's just…most people would never refer to Data as a 'guy.'"

I shrugged. "It was early, and it was dark, and…he can be more of a guy than you know, sometimes. Anyway, I said he was long-term relationship material. I called him forever guy. And he said he wished for a future together, too. Not anything permanent, any time soon, obviously. Just…he's thought about me…about us…that way."

"And how do you feel about that?"

I took half a minute to formulate my reply. "I think I'm incredibly lucky to have someone like Data so devoted to me. I feel…cherished and special and flattered and…and loved. But I also feel that he's right, and committing to something years away is premature. We should focus on here and now, and explore what we already are to each other."

The counselor stared at me for a long moment, as if reading my emotional state. A slow smile spread over her face. "I think the two of you are already very connected," she said. "But there's a…settling….in you, as if you've found where home is, that is very reassuring to feel."

"I do feel settled. I mean…I know we're going to face a long separation, but...I think we can handle it."

"I suspect it won't be as long as all that. Data will visit you on tour when he can; you must know that."

I smiled, "I do know that. I also know that I should get my things and head home. I'm not entirely sure having this conversation here was kosher. I'm on his privacy lock but I don't want to abuse his…what now?" She was giving me a look.

"Data suggested I talk with you when I caught him in the corridor," she revealed. "I might have commented on him kissing you."

"That was barely a kiss."

"But for Data…"

"I know," I said. "For him it was a public declaration. He calls these things…when I first got back, he started asking me to play etudes – they're practice pieces for musicians – each one is designed to help hone specific elements of technique. He calls things like going to concerts and minor public displays of affection relationship etudes. I think it's kind of a riff on your suggestion that we be more visible together, even before we admitted we were dating."

She nodded. "I think it's good for both of you to be comfortable with little displays of affection, and for people on the ship to see you together."

"I'm always convinced people will be staring at us, but no one seemed at all fazed by our relationship at home, and even this morning, no one stopped what they were doing to gawk. I just…I don't ever want to reflect poorly on him."

"You won't, if you continue to be open and honest about your worries, and your needs. You are young, as we've discussed, but in many ways you and Data are very evenly matched."

"And then there are the ways in which he'll always be eons ahead of me."

"Yes, but there are ways you're ahead of him, as well. It balances out."

We both stood and, impulsively, I hugged her. "Thanks for listening," I said.

"I'm happy to do so, Zoe. As a friend, as well as a counselor."

I grinned. "Okay."

She left, and I checked on Spot who had been hiding in the bedroom. Her water was fine. I gathered my belongings and the cake, left a note on Data's computer, and returned to Mom's quarters where I alternately read and dozed until it was time to head to the pool.

Ray had missed my party because he was on duty, but before we started swimming he presented me with a small wrapped box. "It isn't much," he said. "But I couldn't ignore my non-biological sister turning seventeen."

Inside was a pair of earrings – surfboards made of silver – and I laughed and hugged him. "They're awesome. Thank you."

"So, I heard things had changed between you and Commander Data," he said after I let him go. "Annette says you seem really happy."

I smiled. "Yeah. I really am." Then I had to ask, "Wait…'Annette said?' Are you into my friend?"

"Would you mind if I was?"

I shook my head. "Why would I? She's awesome; you're awesome. You're actually kind of perfect for each other. I'm not sure what's going on with her and Wesley, but…I guess that's between you and her."

"So if I asked her out?"

"I'd say have an amazing time, and her favorite flowers are Orion zinnias."

"Good to know," he laughed. "In the pool, Sis. Fifty laps, please?"

"Slave driver," I grumbled good-naturedly. Half-way through my laps he joined me in the pool and we made it a race, but I don't think either of us paid attention to who won.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45095.56**

**(Saturday, 4 February 2368, 23:25 hours, ship's time)**

I finished the last bite of the crepe I'd ordered and smiled sweetly at my dining companion. "When you said 'dance lessons,' I was expecting a holodeck program, not a jazz club on a starbase on a Saturday night. I ought to be really annoyed with you."

Data met my eyes with his own level expression. "But you are not angry, because even though you protest that you dislike being 'stared at,' you enjoy it when people notice us together."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Do your friends know what a conniver you can be, or is this a new thing, since you've turned _thirty_?" The anniversary of his activation day had been two days before, and while he didn't generally celebrate the day, or have any kind of reaction to the change in his chronological age, I was having fun twitting him about it, and he'd been gracious about letting me.

"My age has nothing to do with the fact that you have conceded my point." Was there a hint of smug exultation in that statement?

"Not entirely."

"Zoe…" his tone was as exasperated as he ever got, and I was fairly certain I was the only person who'd ever pushed him so close to the edge of even that much emotion.

"Data…" I mimicked his inflection, but then I reached across the table for his hand, first gripping his fingers, then twining mine with his. "I'll _concede_ that I enjoy being with you, and doing things you enjoy, and while there's an element of being stared at that I'm not in love with, it's something I'll eventually get used to, because I suspect people are always going to notice you."

"Did you not pay attention to the comments the people around us were making, Zoe?"

"I was trying not to listen."

"The general consensus among older patrons was that it was a nice thing to be around 'young love.'"

"They said that?"

"Yes."

"Do _you_ mind it? Being stared at?"

"I find I prefer being noticed because of the apparent connection between us rather than because I am 'Starfleet's android.'"

"Do we have time for one more dance before we have to be back on the ship? I know you promised my mother we'd be back aboard by midnight."

He called over a server and settled our tab. "We do," he said, "have time for one more dance."

"Am I allowed to kiss you while we're dancing, or is that too much PDA?"

He didn't answer, but midway through the dance – he wasn't counting for me that night – he bent his head to kiss me.

We finished the dance and walked back to the umbilical bridge that led from the starbase to the ship, hand in hand, passing other couples and small groups. Some knew me; most knew Data. Polite greetings were exchanged but little else, until a small form came barreling toward us yelling, "Zooooooooeeeeee! Zoe-Zoe-Zoeeeee!"

Data caught the child in firm but gentle hands. "Young man," he said. "Running down the corridors of the _Enterprise_ is generally not recommended."

The boy, an eight-year-old named Charlie who was wearing starship pajamas, looked up at Data and said, "Wow."

I couldn't hide my chuckle fast enough, but after a beat I touched Data on the shoulder, "This is Charlie Simmons. His parents are part of the Melona colony. Charlie, this is Lt. Commander Data, he's third in charge of the ship."

Letting go of the boy, Data adjusted his posture, "It is good to meet you, Charlie."

Charlie grinned up at him. "Good to meet you, too, sir. Zoe's my friend. Is she your friend, too?"

Data and I shared a look, and I shrugged at him. "Yes," he said to Charlie. "Zoe and I are friends."

"Does your mother know you've escaped again?" I asked the boy.

"She and Dad are on the starbase. Sierra's supposed to be watching me, but she fell asleep and I got bored."

"Mmhmm. I bet you did. How 'bout if Data and I take you back to quarters and he calls your parents?"

"He can do that?"

I glanced at Data over Charlie's head and mouthed a question. _Do you mind?_ He answered me with a slight shake of his head, and then directed his attention back to Charlie. "Yes," he said, "I can 'do that.'. Will you lead the way back to your quarters?"

"Okay."

Charlie turned around and started back the way he'd come, pausing to come back and grab my hand, tugging. We let him lead us around two curves of corridor, and followed as he turned toward the interior of the ship at one of the junctions. "We're staying here."

The door opened just as we arrived and a girl about four years younger than me came out, "Charlie! There you are! Charlie, you're going to get me in so much trouble." She noticed Data and me. "Oh, hey, Zoe. If you're looking for Kim, she and Jason are on the starbase."

"Hey," I said. "Charlie already told us that."

"Sierra," Data said, stepping forward as Charlie slipped past us all, into the Simmons's quarters. "You may go home. Zoe and I will wait with the boy until his parents return."

She looked at him, and I saw her count his pips, but all she said was, "Yes, sir. Thank you."

After she left, I made sure Charlie was tucked back into bed, bringing him water but refusing to read a story, and Data contacted the Simmons apologizing for the abrupt ending to their evening. While we waited on their couch, he asked me how I knew the colonists.

"I only really know the Simmons. Gran has college kids come work on the farm sometimes for their externships and Kim was one of them. I was Charlie's age when we met, and she's stayed in touch with the family. I was there when she and Jason got married a few years after Charlie was born."

"I hope to meet your grandmother one day," he said.

"You will," I said. "And she'll love you."

Kim and Jason arrived not long after that, and after apologizing for Charlie's behavior, my old friend said, "I'm glad he ran into you."

Jason added, "Commander Data, I'm so sorry you were involved. Please don't let this reflect poorly on our project."

"I have some experience with children who enjoy testing limits," Data answered diplomatically. "Please think nothing of it, though you may wish to choose a different babysitter in the future."

"Actually, we were going to ask Zoe but she said she had plans…" Kim admitted.

**(=A=)**

We left the Simmons around one in the morning, taking the turbo-lift back up to the officers' decks. The Bajoran ensign who'd come aboard a week or so before – I think her name was Ro or Laura, or some combination of the two - was in the lift with us, but she didn't say anything. In fact, her only acknowledgement of us at all was a curt nod, and she exited on a deck that I'm pretty certain was one below where she actually lived.

"Is she as prickly as the vibe she was giving off?" I asked once we were alone.

"Ensign Ro has a challenging personality, but has offered some innovative suggestions to improve standard procedures," he said. "Once she has had more time to 'settle in,' I will be happy to introduce you. I believe she could use friends who are not officers."

"I'd like that," I said honestly. The 'lift stopped again on deck eight, where Data lived, and we got out, and walked to his quarters, where I immediately began collecting the belongings I'd left there when I'd first arrived. The messenger bag I'd used to carry my 'date' outfit and a few personal items was waiting on the table, but I'd never bothered to pack my cello into its gig bag.

"You are leaving?" Data asked. "You do not wish to continue our evening?"

"It's kind of late," I pointed out. "And I spent the night last night, and both nights last weekend. We've never discussed whether me spending weekend nights here was supposed to be a regular thing, or on a case-by-case basis."

"I have come to expect your presence here on weekends," he confessed. "If you are comfortable staying, I would like you to," he added, joining me near the table.

I turned and stepped into his space, reaching up to muss his hair and guide his face close enough to kiss. "I'm very comfortable here," I assured him. "Would you mind making tea while I change?"

"My pajama top is where you left it, on our bed," he told me.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45114.81**

**(Sunday, 12 February, 2368, 00:30 hours, ship's time) **

It was hours after our Saturday Session had ended but I was still playing my cello in his quarters. Instead of playing a duet _with_ Data, though, I was playing a solo piece _for _him, while he recorded it – audio and video – to send to Hugo Rodriguez. Hugo was the cellist in my favorite chamber ensemble, the Tantalus Quartet, and had been my instructor at the Suzuki Institute in San Francisco the previous summer, and he'd agreed to evaluate my performance.

The piece I was playing was one of Bach's most famous, the Prelude to his first cello suite, and it was a required audition piece for The Martian School, as well as almost every other music conservatory in Federation space. I'd played it for Data before, with him picking apart my technique, but since then I'd matured as a person and a musician, and I'd also memorized the piece, so, I tended to play it…differently.

I finished playing, and waited until Data had ended the recording before I moved, but it was he who spoke first. "Your interpretation of the Prelude has changed since you last played it for me."

"A _lot_ has changed since the last time I played it," I said. "For anyone, not just for you. The last time you heard me rehearsing it, _we'd_ never even kissed."

"Hm." The non-verbal noise usually meant that he'd been presented with new information, but didn't yet have a proper verbal response. "I did not realize being part of a couple could affect so many things."

"You've been part of a couple before," I reminded him gently. "What's changed for you?"

I hadn't meant it as a particularly serious question, but Data, being Data, I was given a thoughtful, serious answer. "With you, while I am not always entirely certain I am 'getting everything right' there is a sense that even if I make mistakes, it will not cause our relationship to fail, but instead will help it grow. Where before I was…I believe you would say 'floundering,' in _this_ relationship, there is only connection and belonging."

I'd set my cello down and crossed the few feet separating us before he finished speaking. "We're both going to make mistakes," I said. "But I still think most of our issues are going to be less android vs. human than male vs. female and Starfleet vs. civilian. Besides," I added softly, "I told you: we fit."

"I concur." He set the recording device aside.

I slipped my arms around him for a hug, resting my head against his chest for a full minute. When I released him, when we released each other, I stretched up to meet his lips in a kiss, but something shifted and what normally would have been sweet and tender turned into something more.

I kissed him again, slower, deeper, tasting the faint cashew essence that was uniquely his, and I moved my hands back to his waist, sliding them under the bottom of his uniform jacket. He'd been wearing civilian clothes more during his off-duty hours, but his dog watch on the bridge had only ended a couple of hours before our recording session, so he was still in uniform. "Can you take this off?" I asked softly.

Wordlessly, he complied.

I tugged the hem of his black t-shirt from his trousers, and insinuated my hands between the fabric and his skin. We'd officially been a couple for two months, and this was the fourth weekend I'd spend the night in his quarters, but touching him that way – being allowed, and even encouraged to do so – still felt like a gift, partly because he was so buttoned up so much of the time, and partly because he constantly surprised me with how responsive and tactile he could be. I was never sure what was choice and what was programming, but more and more, I also wasn't sure it mattered.

His hands were tangled in my hair, both of them, and he continued to kiss me, massaging my tongue with his, wiggling the stud I still wore there, then moving away to nuzzle my neck or nibble at my earlobe. My breath caught, and I let out tiny gasps whenever his tongue or teeth touched my skin.

I stopped stroking his skin to tug on his t-shirt. "Off."

"Zoe…?" His lips formed my name over the surface of my skin.

"I just want contact," I said. "I like touching you. I love your skin." I let go of him – and he of me – long enough for him to divest himself of the t-shirt as well. I caught his hands and guided them to my waist, under the blouse I was wearing. His fingers were cool against my skin. "I like it when you touch me too, you know."

The skimming touch of his fingers slid upward under my shirt, hovering just below my bra, hesitating, until somewhere inside of him a decision was made, and he was cupping my breasts over the fabric, his mouth returning to meet mine, but not before asking, "May I remove your blouse, Zoe?

"Yes…" I was teasing his nipples, feeling the darker gold harden into tiny nubs in response to my fingers. "Data…not…not here."

"No," he agreed. "Not here." By mutual decision, we relocated to the bedroom, to the bed he insisted upon referring to as _ours_ rather than merely his. I sat on the end of it and he knelt in front of me. We shared another slow, deep kiss while he gently unbuttoned my blouse and slid it off my shoulders but then he trailed kisses down my neck to the hollow of my throat, and then down the center of my chest, between my breasts.

"Ohhh, Data…" My hands were gliding over his chest, his sides, his shoulders, touching and exploring, finding the physical contact I'd been craving. Except for the places where there was scant hair – the line from his navel down – his skin was smooth, but it was also soft and pliable, belying his strength, and he, too, was responding with minute – barely detectable, even – changes to his breathing.

"Zoe," he said my name softly, like a benediction, and then he repeated it with the added word that always made me melt. "My Zoe."

I kissed his bare shoulder, then clasped my hands behind his neck. "You should know…I'm not…" I was going to say that I wasn't 'not ready' any more, but hiding behind my usual flippant turns of phrase seemed unfair, and somehow wrong. I took a breath. "The morning of my birthday, I told you I wasn't ready. I am now, but we still don't have to rush, if you're not…"

I literally _saw_ him process my statement. Finally he said, "I am."

We kissed.

He released the clasp on my bra.

A voice sounded over the comm system. "Senior staff, please report to the captain's ready room. Urgent"

"Seriously?!" I couldn't help my frustrated shout.

Data's face was impassive - too impassive, even for him - as he stood up. "I am sorry, Zoe. I must go."

"I know," I said. "It's the job."

"Will you remain here? Our alert status has not changed; it is conceivable that this will be a brief meeting."

"I'll stay," I said. "I might not be awake when you get back though."

"I will accept that risk." He had already retrieved the pieces of uniform we'd removed, and put them back on. He came to kiss me one more time before he left. "This is not an away mission," he said; "merely a meeting, and I will tell you what I can when I return home."

"Go," I said. "The sooner you go, the sooner you get back."

He left, and I changed for bed, wearing the pajama top that had become mine rather than his over the last four weeks of sleepovers. Spot jumped onto the bed to curl up with me, and I scratched behind her ears. "Welcome to 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Sexually Frustrated,'" I said to her. "Here's hoping this isn't a continuing series."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45121.01**

**(Wednesday, 14 February 2368, 07:00 hours, local time)**

**Melona Colony**

"Zooooeeeeeeeeee!" If I'd been sleeping, the sound of an exuberant eight-year-old screaming my name would have woken me, and everyone else in the quadrant as well.

"I believe you are being paged," Data said from his position at the desk in the tent we'd been sharing for two days. Well, really it was more like a small yurt than an actual tent, but it had a canvas roof.

"You're enjoying this," I accused him. I jammed my feet into the purple combat boots I'd chosen as my main footwear for this little excursion, then stood and dropped a kiss on the top of _his_ head for a change. "In fact, I'm certain you finagled me onto this trip _just_ so you could watch me being tortured by the combination of early mornings and small children."

Three days earlier, an urgent staff meeting had killed an amorous moment between us. By the time Data had returned from said meeting, I had fallen asleep, just as I'd warned him I might. He'd let me sleep, then roused me with kisses and coffee telling me that he was leaving that evening to help plant the Melona Colony.

"How does that even work?" I had asked him. "I'm guessing it's absolutely nothing like that board game, 'Colonies of Catan?'"

"Ah, no," he'd said. "I could explain in detail; however, we have long agreed that you are more receptive to a 'hands-on' approach to learning."

"'Hands-on' was certainly the operative phrase last night," I'd responded in a flirtatious voice, but then, more seriously, I'd added, "I meant what I said. I'm ready when you are."

"I am aware," he'd said. "But we will have to wait a while longer, as it would be inappropriate to engage in sexual intimacy while on an away mission."

It had taken me a minute to parse what he was actually saying. "Did you just imply that I'm coming with you? Are you glitching? Me civilian; you Starfleet."

His face had gone blank at my use of the word 'glitching' but a fraction of a second later he realized I wasn't actually insulting him. "No, Zoe, I am operating within normal parameters. However, I am inviting you to join the away team. It is not an uncommon occurrence for students such as yourself to be included on missions that are purely educational or cultural in nature, and you already have a rapport with several of the colonists."

"Won't they be camping for the first couple weeks? Have you met me? I'm the girl who thinks 'roughing it' is a hotel that doesn't have in-room dining and a real bathtub."

"Perhaps, but you are also the young woman…" There had been a minor note of correction in his voice. "…who is familiar with farm life and has successfully navigated 'Rolling for Technology.'" He paused, then added, "Not only will this give you another opportunity to see me 'on the job,' you will also be able to count the experience as 'community service' on your college applications."

I'd sat back down on the bed. "You're not kidding. You're really bringing me with you?"

"Yes."

"So you and Counselor Troi _were_ testing me when I was here while you were working." It hadn't been a question.

"We were evaluating how you handled linguistics challenges, and problem solving, yes."

"Did my mother approve this?" I knew she'd been working with the colonists as well, assisting with planning and prioritization of tasks.

"I would not be bringing it up with you, if she had not."

"Am I only being given this opportunity because I'm your girlfriend?" I had hesitated to ask that, but it was a valid question.

"It is true that our relationship has made you more visible to people like Commander Riker and Captain Picard," he had answered honestly. It is equally true that your relationship with the Simmons, and other members of the Melona group had some bearing."

"Okay, fine, I'll go, but only if I get to share a tent with you."

"Zoe, I do not think that would be…." He trailed off, reacting to the pointed look I was pinning him with. "If you wish," he'd finally acceded.

But that had been three days before. Once we actually arrived at the colony site, I'd been drafted to help with kid-wrangling, cooking, and to offer my opinion as a performer in my own right and as Zach Harris's daughter (and Irene Harris's granddaughter) about the proposed arts facility.

"Zooeeeee, come on! Mom made extra bacon rations this morning!" Charlie Simmons's voice came insistently through the entrance to the tent.

"Be there in a minute," I called out to him. I grabbed the messenger bag with my padd and the small harp I'd replicated to bring on this trip, twisted my hair into a messy bun, and moved to leave Data, and his own work, behind. I paused though, remembering the date, and drew a card out of my bag. It, too, had been replicated for this trip. Resting my hands on Data's shoulders, I leaned around him for a brief kiss. "This is for you," I said, putting the card in front of him.

I started to move away, but he caught my wrist, "Wait."

"Data?"

"I have not forgotten that it is Valentine's Day," he said. "I had thought to bring your gift with us, but decided it would be best left until we are back aboard the _Enterprise_. However, I would not let the day go unmarked." He pulled something from his own collection of things – admittedly, a much smaller collection than mine – "This is for you," he said handing me a silver and blue item about the size of a walnut.

I opened the metallic wrapping to find a single chocolate with a piece of translucent paper wrapped around it. Closer inspection of the inner paper revealed that it was printed with text, similar to a fortune cookie. I read the note, "'If you gave me all the kisses in the world, they would still be too few.' Data, why do I get the feeling you sorted through a box of these to choose an appropriate quote?"

I popped the chocolate – it turned out to be a truffle wrapped around a hazel nut – into my mouth while he answered, "Would you expect anything less?"

I laughed, "No. No I wouldn't."

He handed me a small bag, "You would not be the Zoe I know if you could not mark this day for others as well. These are to share."

I looked, and then laughed more. "Message hearts? Really?"

"I suggest you ensure that your young friend eats his breakfast before you offer him any."

"Oh, no worries on that count. See you at campfire, if not at lunch?" The colonists had instituted an evening campfire to reconnect after their days of construction.

"Of course."

Smiling, I ducked out of the tent. "Sorry to keep you waiting, kidlet."

"Were you and Commander Data kissing?" Charlie demanded.

"We might have been."

"That's gross. Kissing is gross. Girls are gross." He was such a typical eight-year-old. Girls had cooties, and fart noises were the best thing ever, in his world.

I arched a brow at him. "Oh, really? I'm a girl…does that make me gross, too?"

"You're not a girl. You're _Zoe_."

"Mmm. We'll have to revisit this later. I heard something about bacon…?"

"BACON!" He ran off to the communal kitchen. I walked after him until I was sure Data wouldn't be able to see me, and then I took off running, too.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45123.69**

**(Thursday, 15 February 2368, 06:30 hours, local time)**

**Melona Colony**

Valentine's Day was massacred shortly after 18:00 hours, by a giant space-going snowflake.

Data and Commander Riker saved all our lives by ushering us into a series of nearby caves as quickly as possible, but I overheard them after they'd taken a head-count, and I knew that Will's friend Carmen and one of the older men had been killed.

I watched the two of them and Doctor Crusher try to keep everyone calm, but I could tell that the doctor and Riker were as worried as everyone else there. Data was calm, of course, standing guard over us all, ready to face down whatever might breech the entrance of our temporary sanctuary, even though said entrance had been sealed. I never wanted to run to him more. I knew I absolutely couldn't.

As people around me – the older men first – began to react to the elevated CO2 levels, becoming faint and lethargic, I found a piece of cave wall to sit against, crossed my legs lotus-style, and tried to regulate my breathing. Charlie and a couple of the other kids moved away from their fading parents, and came to sit with me.

I still had my messenger bag – I'd been about to stow it in our tent before campfire when the attack had come. We'd been told to be calm, and as still as possible, but keeping kids from being squirmy is pretty hard when you're also not supposed to talk.

I reached into my bag and found the message hearts Data had given me that morning, and pulled them out. I gave one to each kid, and then I pulled out my padd and turned it to a text-display mode.

"We're going to play a game," I typed. "Be as still and quiet as you can, and whoever can go the longest without moving or talking gets another heart. Okay?"

Three small heads nodded.

I typed, "Go," and set a timer.

Eventually, the only kid still awake was Charlie, so I loaded a game on the padd – just Hangman – and we played that until he, too, began to nod off.

I must have fallen asleep, as well, because the next thing I knew people were blasting through the cave entrance from outside, early morning light was shining into the cave, and Data was pulling me to my feet. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said. I was a little tired, a little slow, but nothing hurt, and I knew my sleep had been just sleep, not a loss of consciousness. "I'm fine," I repeated. I bent down to retrieve my padd, sliding it back into my bag. My bracelet caught on one of the closures and for a panicked moment I thought the strings had broken, but then I realized they had only pulled loose.

Data looked me over from top to toe, as if he needed to reassure himself that I was whole and alive, and then he said, "Doctor Crusher and I are prioritizing beam-up. I am afraid you will be in the last group, as you are one of the least affected by the overload of carbon dioxide."

"Can I do anything, in the meanwhile?"

"Continue to help with the children, if you do not mind. They seem to trust you." He took a beat before adding, "Your actions last night kept them from panicking. If I could feel pride, I believe I would be proud of you."

I grinned, "Yeah, I bet you say that to all the women who share your bed," but the truth was, his words meant a lot. He turned away, and we followed him out of the cave to what was left of the once-beautiful planet.

I must have been more altered than I knew because the next few minutes were a blur. I remember Charlie yelling that he had to pee, and me running after him, to make him wait – Kim had lost consciousness and been in the first group to go back to the ship. I remember stumbling on ash and rock, and a familiar gold hand reaching for mine.

I remember wondering when Data had changed to an all-black shirt.

I remember feeling that something was wrong, trying to pull my hand back, and my bracelet snapping.

"Data! Help!" I screamed it, or thought I did, but it might have been just inside my head, and then I was caught in a transporter beam, one that took longer than the transport _down_ to the planet had been a few days earlier.

When the beam released me, I wasn't in the transporter room on the _Enterprise_, but on a single-person pad in what looked like a storage room, chest to chest with someone wearing body armor.

Gold hands in heavy non-Starfleet black sleeves reached for my face, and forced my gaze upward. Malevolent yellow eyes met mine, and a too-familiar voice smarmed at me, "Hello, Pigeon."

* * *

**Notes: **This chapter covers about a month of time, and refers to the episodes "Ensign Ro" and "Silicon Avatar."

Data and Zoe first talk about Tasha in _Crush_, chapter 47 ("Legacies"). Data speaks with Zoe's father in chapter 5 of _For Auld Lang Syne _("Song for a Winter's Night, part IV"), and the entire conversation is revealed in chapter 1 of _Intentions. _ "Rolling for Technology" is something my friends Sage and Todd Tyrtle created several years ago when they and their teenaged son were snowed into their Toronto apartment. Using a standard 6-sided die, they'd roll to see what tech they played with. A six would give them smart phones, wifi, streaming everything, etc. A 4 would drop them down to the 1970s: VCR tapes, live television, vinyl albums, books, and board games. Arthur Conan Doyle was a contemporary and friend of Harry Houdini, and also a fan of the occult. He did actually participate in séances.

Zoe's pre-screening piece is the Prelude from J.S. Bach's first cello suite (Suite No. 1 in G major, BWV 1007). A version of it performed by Ophélie Gaillard has been added to the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube Playlist, linked in my profile. This is one of the most popular cello pieces everywhere, and is required for almost all conservatory auditions. The candy Data gives to Zoe is based on a Perugina chocolate called Baci, which really does come with 'love notes' inside. (Ferraro Rocher is a cheap rip-off of Baci.) They're typically written in four languages, and it's fun to see the different translations.

Special thanks to: **KoraM852 **for being an awesome sounding board and brain trust. Ditto **saya4haji and Moonlady. Ahaszu **and **Red**, thanks for your reviews.


	17. Fractured

**_Disclaimer: _****_Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

**_Structural Note:_** _This chapter jumps back and forth in time and tense. It takes place during and immediately after the episode "Silicon Avatar," but timestamps are omitted for stylistic reasons. _

**_Warning:_****_ This chapter is M-rated for violence, strong language, and adult content, including mildly explicit depictions of physical and sexual assault (rape). _**_While I believe the events in this chapter are integral to the story, if you truly aren't comfortable, you can skip to chapter 18 (once it's posted) without losing the thread of the plot._

* * *

**Fractured**

**Before**

Gold hands in heavy non-Starfleet black sleeves reach for my face, and force my gaze upward. Malevolent yellow eyes meet mine, and a too-familiar voice smarms at me, "Hello, Pigeon."

"Lore…."

"Didja miss me?" His mouth descends toward mine. "Give us a kiss." His assault on my mouth is rough and hard and tastes of acid. I squirm, but he increases the pressure on my cheek bones. "Ah-ah-ah. Play nice, little bird."

There's an alert tone from another part of the…wherever we are…and he shoves me backward against the wall. "Gotta play a little hide-and-seek with your friends on the _Enterprise._ Hold onto something, it's gonna be a bumpy ride."

He leaves through the only visible door, and I take the time to look around. This space isn't a storage room, then, but a cargo bay. We are on a ship. Low ceiling, close walls. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure it isn't very big, as ships go.

There's a shimmy that turns into a shake. Breaking orbit, maybe? I'd felt shuttles strain at such times. Gravity cuts out for a split second, just enough to lift me off my feet and then slam me into the cold metal deck. I bite my tongue when I land, and can't help crying out.

"Told you to hold onto something!" His voice echoes through the vessel.

I've never wanted to punch someone in the face so very badly.

**Now**

The incessant beeping was driving me crazy. The steady pulsing monotone of machinery, frustratingly familiar and yet, for some reason, unidentifiable, kept pinging at my brain. I wanted to let go, to sink into the soft blackness of oblivion, but the beeping kept calling me back. There was something important about the beeping.

**After**

_The sound of a comm-badge being activated. The familiar warm tenor I long to hear. "Data to __Enterprise__."_

_\- "Report." The tinny response over the comm-badge speaker._

_"I am on the bridge of Lore's yacht. There is no evidence of his presence, sir." A beat, and then he adds, "She is here." The sound of approaching footsteps. The electronic trill of a tricorder. "And alive." _

_\- "Is she injured?" _

_"I am still assessing." My eyes are closed but I feel the change in light; he's kneeling next to me. My throat is raw, burning, I cough and taste blood. _

_"Zoe, it is Data. Do not attempt to speak."_

_He means it as a reprieve, but I have to be sure. "Is it … is it really you?" _

_"Yes, Zoe, it is really me. It is Data. You are safe now." His hand touches my hair with infinite tenderness, strokes it away from my face. I hiss softly, as some of it is matted to my skin with blood and plasma. It stings as it separates. _

**(=A=)**

**Before**

The bridge – if it can be called that – of Lore's ship is tiny, almost cramped, and decorated in shades of dismal slate, dreary charcoal, and darker-than-dark black. The deck plating is painted metal with rubber mats. Designed for use, not for comfort.

It echoes the outfit Lore is wearing. His outfit….

"Is there a special store for super-villains?" I ask, eying him up and down. "Skinny jeans? Leather chaps? Really? Most men would stick with a codpiece, not dress like a reject from a Rigellian rocket-rider gang." He's shucked what I thought was body armor – it's just the leather jacket that goes with the chaps, apparently –and tossed it over the railing that circles the upper deck of the bridge. Now, his top half is covered in a silvery grey shirt – the thermal kind that makes human skin feel itchy, like you're wearing a metal scouring sponge.

He grins at me, and I shiver. "You don't like it?" He feigns being hurt. "But I picked it out just for our anniversary, Pigeon."

"I'm not a fucking pigeon," I say. "And it's not our anniversary." Except it is, in a way. It was a year ago this month that I followed him to that bar. Of course, I'd thought he was Data at the time. Looking at him now, I don't know how I ever mistook Lore for the man I love. Data's face is softer, and they carry themselves completely differently, and Data's eyes…. Data's eyes are warm while Lore's are all cold fire. "Why am I here? What do you want with me?" The ship pitches and yaws, and I lose my footing.

Lore's grin widens into a toothy leer. "Sit at conn."

He's in the captain's chair, but there is a sunken area below the main bridge with another seat centered at a single control board. I start toward it, but the ship spins around, and I'm thrown down the stairs to the control pit floor. I hear, rather than feel, the crack of my temple against the side of the console. Something warm trickles down the side of my face, and I wipe it away with my sleeve.

"Careful, Pigeon. Wouldn't want you to break anything."

I don't know if he means me, or the console, but I don't have time to ask, because as soon as I settle myself in the chair we're moving again in nauseating swoops and dives, and suddenly the view screen is dominated by a giant crystal snowflake thing. "That's the thing that destroyed Melona," I observe out loud. Way to state the obvious, Zoe.

**Now**

The beeping finally resolved itself into the sound of the bio bed monitors in sickbay. Data's voice, soft so as not to disrupt anyone (me) wafted over me, "Emily, you should rest. I will stay with her."

"I know I should," my mother answered. "But I don't want to miss it if she opens her eyes. Are you sure she was awake when you found her."

"I am certain," came his quick assurance. "She was awake and aware of where she was and who I am."

**After**

_"Knew you'd come."_

_"I am sorry I took so long," Data's voice, so calm. I want to crawl inside it. "Can you sit up if I help you?"_

_A slight nod, my head moving against the deck. His arms supporting me, gathering me to his chest. Safe. Sheltered. Warm. Sobs well up inside me, then burst forth. "Data he…" Words fail. _

_His breath. Hint of cashew. His kiss to the top of my head. Absolution. _

_"I know," he says. "I know."_

_"Safe?" I ask, just to be sure. _

_"Yes." His hands, stroking my hair so gently. "You are safe. I must secure this vessel, and then I will take you home."_

_Trust this. Trust us. Trust Data. _

_"Don't let go." _

_"No, Zoe, I will not. I will not let go." _

_Eyes open, I meet his gaze. His eyes are so warm, like twin suns. _

_Burying my head against his chest, I let the sobs come as they will. _

**(=A=)**

**Before**

"Pigeon, meet Phil."

"Phil?"

"'Crystalline Entity' is so twenty-three sixty-six, don't you think? Besides, it looks like a Phil."

I refuse to give him the pleasure of laughing at his joke. Instead I demand, "Did you send it to Melona?"

"Oh, look at the little girl, getting all incensed."

"Did you?" I repeat the question.

The ship goes into another spin, arcing over the top of the snowflake – of _Phil_'s outermost rays. "Where are we? Where's the _Enterprise?_"

"You're at conn; you tell me."

I look at the control board, but I only know how to fly a flitter, and a little about how to read the information on a standard shuttle display. "I don't…." I start, and then I turn in the chair. "You led it, didn't you? You led that thing –"

"_Phil_ –"

"_Phil_, then. Whatever. You led it to Melona. You _wanted_ those people to die."

He shrugs. "Phil was hungry. Fucking with my brother and his precious Starfleet - that was just a bonus. I couldn't grab him; you little girl, are my consolation prize." He pauses long enough for me to want to drag words from his mouth. "But no, I didn't want them to die." He gives a curt laugh, cutting himself off and adds darkly, "Didn't particularly care if they lived, either."

"Data was there, you know. On the planet. You might have killed him, too."

Something changes in the android's face. Fear. He's afraid…of himself, maybe? "You're lying."

"Why would I bother lying to a fuck-bot like _you_?" The epithet isn't one I'd normally use, and I hope to god that Data never finds out I even know the word, but just now, it's the worst thing I can think to call him, and I can tell it stings just a little.

"Mind your tongue, Pigeon. Or have you forgotten my warning? That mouth of yours will get you into serious trouble someday."

I stare at him, taking in every line of him, every nuance of body language. When I speak again it's in a voice that's purposefully low and slow, and I carefully enunciate every consonant. "You didn't know that, did you? You almost killed your own brother – your only family – and you didn't even know."

"Stop it." His tone is almost petulant. While Data sometimes seemed like an inquisitive five-year-old, his brother has morphed into a defensive one. Even his face is suddenly softer, younger.

I realize I've found a button I can push. "Is that what you want, Lore? Do you want Data's death on your hands?"

"I don't want him dead, you stupid girl. I want him with me." His voice is soft. "He's my brother. He belongs with me, not serving fragile, petty human beings. Not emulating creatures who'll never truly accept him." There's a beat and then Lore admits, "I love him."

"Right, because everyone expresses their love with attempted murder of a colony of people, and the kidnapping of their brother's girlfriend." As soon as the last word is out of my mouth, I know it was a mistake.

Before I can even formulate a way to walk it back, he's descended into the control pit, lifted me by the hair, and thrown me to the floor. I feel the ship doing more crazy navigation, and decide to stay where I am.

**(=A=)**

**Interlude: **_**Kallisko**_

I'm not the only one who is startled when the comm system crackles to life. Lore clearly wasn't expecting it either. The audio is choppy, but when I move to a sitting position so I can see the screen, everything is made clear. A freighter is trying to flee from Phil.

Their mayday, an open hail broadcast on all channels, is heartbreaking. "Stop this," I tell Lore. "You can communicate with that…with Phil, can't you? Stop this!"

"Why?"

Another voice breaks in on the same channel before I can answer. A voice I recognize: Captain Picard. He's telling them to evade, to run, but the freighter doesn't stand a chance. There's a power surge, and the lights in the ship flicker. Phil is strobing, and the pulses of light reflect on Lore's face.

"Mmm," he says, licking his lips, as if he were the one that fed on the energy, the people, in that ship. "Tasty. But not as tasty as you, Pigeon. Did you ever give Data my message? That I had the first taste?"

On the view screen the freighter has gone dark, and is adrift in space.

I send a silent prayer to the universe for the people who were aboard, and for whoever might be waiting for them back home.

I ignore Lore's dig at me.

**(=A=)**

**Before**

My comm-badge is in my bra. I think about this while Lore is in apparent communion with Phil. He stands in front of the captain's chair, arms down, head thrown back. Ecstasy is apparent on his face, in the way he's holding his body. I _so _never needed to see this man's o-face.

The only image on the screen is a close-up of the crystal creature, and I can't help but be struck by the terrible beauty of the silver-white filaments. Its power is pulsing visibly. Strobing.

Lore's eyes are closed. I reach into my shirt, into my bra, and pull out the small gold pin. The metal is warm from my skin.

"Drop it."

I palm the comm-badge. Time to see how good an actor I really am. "Drop what?" I ask innocently.

He turns on me, and it takes everything I have not to flinch away. "Open your hand." He comes closer, leaning over me, and I kick out, the way I did in the hotel room after he pierced my tongue, but he catches my booted foot before it makes contact. "Nice try, Pigeon." Lore pulls my boot off and throws it at the bulkhead wall. It ricochets off and nearly hits me in the head. When he repeats the process with my other boot, he throws it in the opposite direction, and with less force.

He drops to his leather-clad knees in front of me, and takes my hands, my wrists, really – one in each of his. The comm-badge is in my left hand, but I've got both of them in fists, and when he starts to squeeze it's everything I can do not to let go. I tug and twist, but his hands are a pair of vise-grips and white pain floods through me as the bones in my right wrist crack.

"Little pigeons have such delicate bones," he whispers into my face. That was one wrist. Shall I do the other?"

"No…please..." My tongue is bleeding because I've bitten it again, and my head is throbbing from where I hit it earlier.

"Please what?"

"Please don't…"

"Well, since you asked so nicely…." The pressure eases slightly, and I close my eyes against the tears that are coming. He releases my right wrist and wipes the wetness off my face with his thumb. I open my eyes – terrified and curious – he's shifted from cruel to gentle so quickly. He sucks my tears from his thumb. "So, you and my brother?" he asks, almost conversationally.

I nod. "Yes."

He chuckles. "How cute. You know what they say: 'Once you go 'droid, you're spoiled for 'noid,' and you should know, Pigeon; you've tasted us both. Your comm-badge, please."

"Could you _be_ more vulgar?" I snark at him, but I open my left hand, and let the communicator drop to the deck.

I expect him to pick it up. I expect him to make some kind of snarky reply. Instead, he uses his free hand to grab my hair, and when he rises to his feet, he yanks me to mine. Then he kicks the badge across the deck plates and narrows his eyes at me. "You used to be afraid of me," he says. "Don't get me wrong, little bird, I know you're afraid I'll hurt you again – and I can't deny it does something to me when you cry – but our banter…it's losing its spark, don't you think? It was so much _better _when it was charged with fear. Now…now you taste of…" He uses my hair to tug my head backward, and then he licks my neck. "Pity," he seems to decide. "You pity me."

"Shouldn't I?" I challenge. "_You_ have what Data's always wanted, not just emotion, but actual memories of your 'childhood' with the Soongs. _You_ have a brother who craves the same things you do: connection, belonging, acceptance, family. And what do you do? You _kill_ everyone you've ever known. You _murder_ your own father. You do everything possible to drive Data away from you. You are all alone." Even as the words are spilling out of me, I know that saying them is the stupidest thing I could possibly have done.

"Shut up," he says. "Shut up!"

At first I think he's talking to me. Then I realize that the _Enterprise_ can be seen on the viewer, and Phil is changing… pulsing in different patterns and speeds.

I have nothing to lose; I push harder. "You say you love him, but I think what you really want is for him to love you. Isn't that right? Isn't that what you think? 'Everyone loves Data, but no one's ever really loved Lore.' It must kill you to think that your poor, emotionless brother can command such loyalty, be given so much friendship, be _loved._"

"STOP IT!" His scream is loud and pain-wracked, and the screen behind him is completely filled by the specter of Phil, now, because the ship is being pulled toward the great crystal creature. "SHUT UP, BITCH!"

He flings me away from him, and I skid on bare feet, hitting the bulkhead wall. If I survive this, I'll be covered with bruises.

"Data would never do what you just did," I fling the words between spasms of pain.

The pulsing has become full-on oscillation – Phil – the ship – everything, vibrating to ever-changing, ever increasing frequencies. In one horrific leap of intuition, I realize that Lore isn't just able to _communicate _with Phil. He's actually _connected_ with it, through subspace, maybe? Whatever.

Lore crosses the room, drags me back to my feet, and captures my mouth in a searing acidic kiss. "You think I can't have what I want?" he hisses. "I already have you, Pigeon. You're wearing my piercing, and my marks are on your creamy skin, and it wasn't my brother who had the first taste of you, or the second. It was me."

I struggle against him, kicking and squirming, but he's holding me fast. "Don't," I say. "Please. You can just let me go. Just beam me back. They'll never know…."

"They already know, Pigeon."

He grips my broken right wrist and the sore, but intact, left one in one of his long-fingered hands. (Are Data's hands this big? I can't remember. Why can't I remember?) "Don't!" He backs me against the wall, and his free hand goes to my pants, tugging at the fastener, and then just ripping. "No, please."

My knee makes contact with his groin, and he laughs, and the sound is crazy. Maniacal. "Oh, does the little bird want that already?" His voice is a parody of what a lover (Data) would use.

The ship seems to drop beneath us, and I find myself flat on the deck, with Lore on top of me, his hands around my throat. The pulsing crystalline entity on the screen is looming larger and larger, and the lights are flickering weirdly.

"Oh, poor Pigeon is a broken bird. Lore doesn't take good care of his pets. Don't squeeze so tightly, you might hurt it."

I try to reach his back, where the power switch is, but I can't breathe, and he's so heavy.

"Pigeon mustn't touch the button…ah-ah-ah…" he says, and he pins my hands over my head with one of his, while the other rips open my shirt. He releases my hands but I don't have the strength to try anything else. "Pretty, pretty, Pigeon," he says, before he bites my breast - my nipple - through my bra. It's not a playful bite. He breaks the skin.

In the back of my mind I'm glad I chose the red lace bra for Valentine's Day, because the blood won't show.

**(=A=)**

**Now**

"This can't be easy for you, either," my mother observed, speaking the words softly. "Surely keeping this…this vigil…isn't the best use of your time."

"I promised Zoe I would not let go," Data explained, and lifted our clasped hands, presumably so my mother could see.

"You care for her very deeply, don't you?"

I expected him to evade her question, to give a non-answer. Instead he surprised us both, speaking the words he'd uttered to me in bed. "I am devoted to her."

I felt tears begin to pool in my eyes, but even real crying took too much energy.

**After**

_Cradled against Data's chest, still sobbing, all I know is his hand has left my hair. _

_He's holding me close, so tightly, with both arms, and he keeps reminding me. "You are safe, Zoe. I am with you, and you are safe." _

_"My fault," I sob. "He…he… and it was all my fault." _

_"No." Firm. Assuring. "No matter what you said or did, you did not deserve this." _

_"But he said….and he touched….and he…"_

_"Hush, Zoe. It is over. It is all over." _

**Before **

Lore's teeth are locked around my left nipple. I want to wriggle free, but I'm afraid it will hurt more if I do. His words echo in my head: _I had the first taste. I had the first taste. I had the first taste. _My throat hurts, and I'm choking on bile again.

The vibrations increase. The steady whine ascends the scale, the pitch grating to my ears. I can't imagine how android hearing responds to the sound. I close my eyes, and I find a few moments of unconsciousness.

When I come back to myself, Lore has released his mouth from my breast, and is taunting me, "Pigeon's gonna get plucked. Pigeon's gonna get pounded." One hand is gripping my hip, holding me still and pressing me against the deck at the same time. Cold metal against my skin. My blouse is gone. My bra is in pieces. I don't want to think about the marks he is leaving on my body.

The soft khaki trousers I'd been wearing have long since been shredded, rent to ribbons just by his fingers, as if he were stripping away flesh and not just fabric. His fingers are hot against my skin, trailing down my stomach, delving between my legs. Burning. Acid and heat.

His fingers push into me through my underwear. "Pigeon's a naughty girl, wearing red lace. Does my brother get to see these things?" The fabric rips against his fingertips and he flexes them inside me, twisting and turning and driving in as far as he can reach.

I scream, and buck. "NO! Stop! No, please…please, don't!" I repeat it over and over.

He pulls his hand away, then there's a tug and a burning sensation as elastic is tightened and pulled. He holds my ruined panties over my head so I can see them. "Should I leave them for my brother to find, or keep them as a souvenir?" He waves the scraps of red lace like a tattered victory flag. "Or maybe you're my souvenir, little Pigeon. Whatcha think?"

"Not your color," I rasp out. My throat burns from thirst, and from the pressure of his fingers.

"No?" he asks, and tosses them away. "Eh. Perhaps you're right." The sudden burst of near-lucidity is somehow scarier than what came before, but there's still that electric keening whine, and as it goes higher up the scale and the oscillations become frantic, he reaches for his chaps, tugging the buckle free, and then for his jeans, ripping open the button fly.

I have just enough coherence to notice that he's going commando, and something in me thinks, that of _course_ he would. I wonder if I'm going crazy, like he is, or if it's just a defense mechanism.

He strokes his freed cock and leers at me. "I had the first taste," he says in the smarmy voice from before. "Now I get the first fuck, too."

"Don't. Be. So. Sure." I bite out the words, desperate for one last dig. One last bit of control.

He laughs. He _laughs_. "Guess you can compare us then, Pigeon. Does my brother hold you like this?" His hands slam me to the deck, grip my ankles and force my legs up, so my knees are nearly to my chest. "Does he order you to keep still, or does he prefer it when you struggle." His voice becomes a whisper. "Does he make you beg for it?"

"Please," I sob – as I have been sobbing – "Please stop. Don't. Please. No, no, no."

"Or does he hold back –"

"NO!"

"Keep everything soft and safe –"

"NO!"

"And _human?" _

_"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

He slams into me, and his thrusts hammer my body against the deck, my head against the bulkhead wall. He's muttering things I can't hear because of my own screaming sobs and the whine shuddering through the ship.

I scream.

His… fluids… flood through me at the same time that the crystal – that Phil – shatters into nothing.

I _scream._

Lore shoves away from me, and I hear him adjusting his clothing.

"Pretty bird," he says, and in that instant I know that something has snapped inside of him. Something irrevocable. "Poor, broken Pigeon. Lore can't have nice things." There's horror and grief on his face, but his eyes…his eyes look like they don't see anything at all.

He lifts his foot, kicks the comm-badge across the floor to me.

He flips up his thumbnail. There's a transporter shimmer and then I'm alone.

**Later**

I manage to move close enough to the rail to grab the jacket Lore abandoned. I don't want to wear his things, but it's better than being naked on the cold metal of the deck.

I stretch, whimpering with every tiny movement, and manage to reach the comm-badge, drop my hand onto it, hear the channel open. "This is Zoe Harris," I croak into it. "Please help me."

I hear a reply, people asking for information, but there's nothing left in me.

I close my eyes, and give myself to oblivion.

**(=A=)**

**After**

_"He…he…"_

_"You do not have to say it." _

_But I __do__ have to. I have to, now, or I never will. _

_"Lore raped me," the words hang between us. "I wish you could make it not be true." _

_His arms tighten around me and he buries his face in my hair. His whisper is the most heartbreaking thing I've ever heard him say._

_"As do I."_

_We stay that way for several minutes. Him holding me. Me being held. _

_I close my eyes. _

_Safe. Secure. _

_Trust this. Trust Data. Trust us. _

_The electrical whine of the tricorder. The snap of it closing. _

_The comm-channel opening. _

_"Data to Enterprise. Two to beam directly to sickbay. Please have Counselor Troi on standby." _

**Now**

"The sedatives should have worn off by now." The professional, caring tone of Dr. Crusher's voice was oddly reassuring. "Has she shown any signs of waking?"

"She seemed to be crying," Data said softly. "In response to conversation."

"I can give her a stimulant, but I'd rather she wake up on her own," the doctor said.

"I agree," my mother's voice answered softly, sounding exhausted.

I summoned the strength to wake up. Found the energy to open my eyes. I saw my mother's face first, and watched her tired worry turn to constrained relief. "Hi, Mom." I managed, though it hurt to talk.

"Hi, honey," she answered.

I turned my head, and met Data's reassuring yellow-eyed gaze. "You didn't let go."

"I promised I would not," he reminded me gently. He extricated his hand from mine, and stroked my hair, apparently not caring that my mother was right there. "My Zoe."

* * *

**Notes: **First, thanks to **KoraM852 **for beta reading this chapter (though, really, that doesn't begin to describe how much she helped). Second, I feel it should be said: I don't believe rape should ever be used to entertain. The events in this piece are not meant to be gratuitous. The whole chapter is designed to offer a possible explanation for the shift from Lore as murderous opportunist in "DataLore" and "Brothers," to the much darker version we see in "Descent Part I" and "Descent Part II," as well as to give Data more of a reason for the permanent deactivation of Lore we see in the latter episode.


	18. Fugue

_**Disclaimer:**__**Star Trek: the Next Generation, the **_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_**, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. **_

_**Warning**__**: Non-explicit descriptions of physical and sexual assault as Zoe talks about what happened. If you skipped chapter 17, it will be enough to explain what happened, but way less squicky. HOWEVER, this is a 'soft M' for a slightly steamy bit at the end. **_

* * *

**Fugue**

**Fugue: In music, a composition in which one or two themes are repeated or imitated by successively entering voices and contrapuntally developed in a continuous interweaving of the voice parts**.

**(=A=)**

**_Stardate 45130.40_**

**_(Saturday, 17 February 2368, 17:30 hours, ship's time)_**

_"He…he…"_

_"You do not have to say it." _

_But I __do__ have to. I have to, now, or I never will. _

_"Lore raped me," the words hang between us. "I wish you could make it not be true." _

_His arms tighten around me and he buries his face in my hair. His whisper is the most heartbreaking thing I've ever heard him say._

_"As do I."_

_We stay that way for several minutes. Him holding me. Me being held. _

_I close my eyes. _

_Safe. Secure. _

_Trust this. Trust Data. Trust us. _

_The electrical whine of the tricorder. The snap of it closing. _

_The comm-channel opening. _

_"Data to Enterprise. Two to beam directly to sickbay. Please have Counselor Troi on standby." _

**\- From _Crush II: Ostinato, chapter 17, "Fractured"_**

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45131.55**

**(Sunday, 18 February 2368, 03:34 hours, ship's time)**

I woke up in my own bed on the _Enterprise_, but something was different about my room. The door was open; I never sleep with the door open. Our quarters were dark, nearly silent, and I could sense that someone was in the living room.

I had to pee.

I sat up in bed and took stock: I was wearing a long nightshirt – not one of my usual baggy t-shirts, but an actual sleep shirt. I lifted my hands to rub sleep from my eyes, and nearly hit myself in the face with the cast on my right wrist.

Memory came flooding back to me.

**(=A=)**

**_Stardate 45130.83_**

**_(Saturday, 17 February 2368, 21:16 hours, ship's time)_**

_"I've fixed the scalp laceration, the cracked ribs and the bruising to your trachea. It may still hurt to talk for a day or so," Dr. Crusher was speaking softly, but still in a professional tone. "I've used the bone regenerator on your wrist, but with fine bones it's better to use a cast for several days – in your case a week, I think." _

_I was in sickbay. Data had found me on Lore's ship and brought me home early that morning, naked except for his brother's cast-off leather jacket, my ripped red lace bra, and my socks. "Thank you," I said. "Sorry to be so much trouble." _

_"Oh, Zoe," she sat down on the edge of the bio bed. "No one thinks you're any trouble. Commander Riker and I feel horrible for not being more aware of what was going on, and Data…" _

_"Where is he? And my Mom?" _

_"Data's making his report to the captain; he'll be back very soon. Your mother is just outside."_

_"When can I go home?" _

_"Now if you want, I can have Data go to your quarters when he's through speaking with Captain Picard." She paused. "If you'd rather wait for Data to escort you, that's fine. Can I get you anything?" _

_"A shower," I said. "I'd kill for a shower. Or two. Or fifty." _

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45131.55**

**(Sunday, 18 February 2368, 03:34 hours, ship's time)**

**\- Continued -**

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I was stiff and sore, but I did what I needed and washed my hands, and then took a good look at myself in the mirror.

I looked exhausted, mostly. The doctor had healed the bruises on my head and throat, but I felt like I was still wearing them. My breast ached where Lore had bitten it. I didn't want to know yet if _that _had been healed, too.

"Zoe?" The warm tenor voice that was becoming as familiar to me as my own jolted me out of my brain-fog. "Zoe, it is Data. May I come in?"

"In a minute," I said. I splashed water on my face, smoothed my sleep shirt, and left the bathroom, returning to my bedroom, where Data was hovering just outside the door. "Where's my mother?"

"She and Ed went to bed roughly three hours ago, when it appeared that you would be sleeping through the night."

"He's here?"

"Yes."

"And you're here?" He gave me a look that clearly meant I was stating the obvious. "Well, this isn't weird at all."

"I believe the circumstances warrant some of what you call 'weirdness,' Zoe. However I can leave if you –"

"NO!" I didn't know why, but the thought of Data leaving, even if it was only to go to his own quarters, two decks away, had me panicked. "Don't. Don't leave."

He stepped close to me. "Zoe, may I touch you?"

His question confused me. "Of course you can. Why would you even ask me that?"

Instead of answering, he drew me into his arms, just holding me. Very softly, he said, "After what you experienced, I was not certain you would wish contact from someone who looks like –"

Again, I cut him off. "Data, you are _not _him. I know this. You could _never_ be him." I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head against his chest. I have no idea how long we stayed that way, only that at some point he guided me back to my bed.

"You should rest."

I was tired, but I wasn't ready to sleep. I'd been nightmare-free so far, but I knew it wouldn't last. "Would you mind making some tea and sitting with me for a while?" He seemed almost glad to be able to do something. I got back under my covers, and waited for him to reappear with two cups of tea, one of which he handed to me. It was awkward, holding it with my left hand, but I managed. "Chamomile," I said. "Thank you." He was still standing, so I scooted over against the wall, making room. "Sit with me."

If he thought about it, he did so quickly enough that it wasn't evident. Balancing his tea, he joined me on the bed. For the first time since I was taken by Lore's transporter beam, I actually felt relaxed and safe.

We finished our tea in silence. I didn't want to talk, I just wanted to not be alone. Data took my cup from me, and I curled up against him and went back to sleep, or tried to. Twice I woke up just to make sure he was there. The third time, Data woke me from a nightmare, but not soon enough to keep my mother from running to see what was going on.

I saw Mom register that Data was in my bed (fully dressed, but, still…), and I expected her to yell, but something in the way he was stroking my hair must have meant something to her, because she smiled softly, thanked him for staying with me, told me to try and sleep, and triggered my door to close when she left.

"And the weirdness keeps on coming," I muttered.

"Indubitably," Data replied softly. "It is not yet eight hundred hours. Try to sleep a while longer. I will remain here."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45135.46**

**(Monday, 19 February 2368, 13:57 hours, ship's time)**

I slept until eleven, when Data woke me because he had to leave. "I must report to the shuttle bay to supervise the preliminary analysis of Lore's ship. Your mother is here, and Counselor Troi will be here this afternoon, but do not hesitate to contact me if you…" he hesitated, probably looking for an alternative to 'require assistance,' I guessed. I must have been right, because he finished his sentence with "… need me."

I nodded. "I will. I mean…I won't. I mean…"

"I understand." He turned to go.

"Data, wait…"

"Zoe?" He returned to my bedside.

"Are all my…what's left of my clothes, and my messenger bag…are they all still on his ship?"

"Yes. No one will move anything until I am there. Do you wish me to return your belongings?"

"I want my bag back – my padd was still in it. I left it in the cargo bay. And my boots if they're still there." I laughed softly. "I was wearing those boots when I _kicked_ him last year. But the rest…what's left…I don't want to see." It crossed my mind to ask him if he could make it so no one else would see – at least not the underwear – but I didn't.

"You will not have to," he promised. He leaned over me and asked softly, "May I kiss you goodbye?" I knew why he was asking, but the fact that he did still made tears spring into my eyes. I blinked them back, nodding, and he brushed a brief, tender kiss across my lips. "I will see you this evening," he said.

He left, and I let tears flow, as much because Data had felt he had to ask for permission before he kissed me, as because I wasn't sure how I would have reacted if he _hadn't_ asked.

Nearly three hours later, I'd managed to shower and get dressed – much more difficult to accomplish one-handed than I'd have ever guessed. I ended up just putting on a really loose tank top over sweatpants because I couldn't manage a bra, and wasn't ready to admit I needed help.

Anyway, I wasn't going anywhere.

Mom was in the living room working on a padd, when I left my room, but she put it down when I collapsed onto the couch next to her. "It's good to see you out of bed," she said. "Are you hungry?"

I had to think about it. "I know I should be," I said. "But mostly I just feel drained and kind of…out of synch."

She smoothed my hair away from my face – I hadn't been able to do anything with it – and tucked a few strands behind my ear. "You should try to eat. Maybe a smoothie?"

I thought about it for a minute. My throat still ached a little, and it would probably help. "Will you program it for me? Orange."

She ruffled the hair she'd just smoothed. "I might even join you." She left the couch, and I used the time it took her to replicate two smoothies to peek at her padd. Nothing interesting, just a novel. She returned to the couch and handed me one of the glasses.

I sucked some of the cold, creamy liquid through the straw in my glass. It soothed my throat but it tasted like sand. Or mud, I guess. I grimaced but I hadn't actually _eaten_ anything in days, and the only nourishment I'd had since Data had found me was from hypo-sprays and IVs. I forced down some more of it.

My mother was watching me with an odd expression on her face.

"What?" I asked, the word coming out a lot snippier than I meant it.

She shook her head slightly. "Four days ago, I thought you were lost. Yesterday, when Data beamed into sickbay with you in his arms, and confirmed that you'd been – not just hurt – but _raped_, I didn't think you'd even get out of bed for days. And then this morning when you had a nightmare, and I saw how protective Data was of you… A month ago, you were still my little girl. When, exactly did you grow up?"

For once, I didn't have a snarky response. "Oh, Mom. I'm not as grown up as all that. I was terrified you were going to read Data the riot act – superior officer or not – for being in my bed…last night – this morning – whatever was all kinds of weird. Is it true Ed was here?"

She nodded, and, I noted, she blushed. My mother actually _blushed_. "I would have told you as soon as you got home if…"

I looked away. If… If… Was the rest of my life going to be about things that might have happened (or not happened) _if…_? But I remembered the dinner I'd had with Ed a few weeks before. "Did he propose?"

"Valentine's Day," she said.

"And?"

"And…?" My mother pretended not to know what I wanted to hear.

"Mom!"

She held out her left hand, displaying a tasteful diamond ring. "I said yes."

"That's _awesome_!" I set my glass on our coffee table and moved across the couch to hug my mother.

We embraced, and when I sat back she raised her hands to the side of my face, the way she'd done tons of times in my life, to look into my eyes. "Sweetie, are you sure you're okay with this? I know you weren't happy about your father and Gia…"

But I couldn't answer because suddenly I was back on that cold, dark ship with Lore's hands squeezing my face just before his acid kiss. "No…..don't…" I pulled away. "Please… don't." I knew my mother was talking to me but everything was rushing inside my head and all I could hear was Lore's taunting. _Didja miss me? Play nice, little bird. _ I couldn't help it; I started sobbing.

Mom's hands left my face almost immediately, and she drew me back into a hug, holding me so I couldn't flail. "Zoe, sweetie, you're home. You're safe. Zoe, hon, it's Mom. You're safe."

I don't know how long she kept repeating those phrases, but eventually I calmed down. "I'm okay now," I said. "I'm sorry."

"What happened?"

"He…he held my face... after we materialized. He held my face, and he squeezed. God, Mom. Data kissed me this morning and I was fine, but you touch me and I freak out. What's _wrong_ with me?"

My mother's earlier happiness had completely evaporated, and she was looking at me with so much sadness it almost hurt. "You were raped," she said simply.

I let her pull me into another hug.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45140.42**

**(Wednesday, 21 February 2368, 09:30 hours, ship's time)**

The meeting had originally been scheduled for eight, but after I'd experienced another night of restless sleep punctuated by nightmares, Counselor Troi had taken one look at me, and rescheduled it for nine-thirty. We'd spent a couple of hours just talking the night before, and then another half hour was dedicated to making sure I'd be prepared.

Once again, I was seated between Data and the counselor at the conference table near the bridge, only my mother was also present. I hadn't wanted her there, but she'd insisted, and I was learning – slowly – to pick my battles. Doctor Crusher was also there, but Geordi and Commander Riker were not.

We had all been served cups of fragrant Earl Grey tea, at the captain's suggestion. Apparently by the time you're in charge of a starship, you also know that awkward conversations are easier when people have something to do with their hands.

Or, maybe he just liked the tea and wanted everyone else to get hooked on it, too.

"Miss Harris," he began, and then, evidently remembering the last time we'd had any kind of interaction, corrected it to a very gentle, "Zoe…" He sipped some of his tea, then continued, "I'm certain you're getting tired of hearing this, but, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" I asked, and he nodded. "Yesterday, all I wanted to do was sleep. Everything I eat tastes like sand, and I'm really sore. I mean, I know all the broken bones and stuff were fixed, but…I just …I feel like everything is sharp and prickly, and I've been having nightmares and…and flashbacks." I took a beat, "That was probably way more than you wanted to know, wasn't it?"

"Not at all," he assured, and though his voice was rough, there was a hint of warmth in his eyes.

"What Zoe's experiencing is actually quite typical for anyone who has survived a trauma," Troi said, though I could tell she meant the words for me, because she added, "All of those things will start to fade in time," and met my eyes.

The captain nodded. "The counselor is correct, Zoe." I don't know why, but I got the impression he was speaking from experience. "I sincerely hope the process is a speedy one for you. However, you're here this morning because we need you to make an official statement. You were kidnapped while acting as a civilian volunteer on a Starfleet mission. In addition, you are technically a minor child…"

I cut him off. "Excuse me, sir, but I'm not a child – I'm over sixteen – and legally, I'm not exactly a minor, either."

"Zoe?" the question came from Data.

My mother started to speak, but sat back, apparently deciding it should come from me. I think some part of her was still stuck in our conversation from the day before. I leaned forward slightly, and explained. "My paperwork came through while I was…away. Retroactively to a start date of February 1st, I am an _emancipated_ minor. I didn't know until this morning. None of us were paying particular attention to stuff like that."

"An order of emancipation means that Zoe has the legal right to determine her own medical care without parental oversight. As well, she is allowed to live on her own, accept employment, and essentially claim all the rights and privileges of legal adulthood except in regard to controlled substances and the right to vote." Data's explanation was brief, for him, but covered the essentials.

"I see," Captain Picard said. "I'm not certain Starfleet will understand the distinction, but we have included student volunteers on similar missions before, and I have no reason to believe your participation in the intended mission on Melona is an issue."

"Zoe, what we need now is for you to take us through what happened, from the moment you were taken to the moment Data found you."

"I was kind of foggy for a lot of it," I explained, "It started when we all left the caves the morning after the Crystalline Entity trashed Melona. Data said that since I wasn't physically injured I would be in the last group going back to the ship, and when I asked if I could do anything he asked me to keep doing what I already was – keeping the kids calm."

"Commander Riker and Mr. Data both mentioned that you handled yourself, and the children, exceptionally well," the captain observed.

"Zoe, why don't you skip ahead to when you were actually taken," the counselor suggested.

I nodded, and explained how Charlie Simmons had been complaining he needed to pee, and I ran after him to bring him back to the group. I talked about feeling disconnected, and everything being a blur, and being grabbed by someone wearing heavy black clothing. I told them about arriving in the cargo bay on the ship, and Lore kissing me.

"Zoe," Dr. Crusher's voice was gentle and cool, like fresh water. "Can you tell us how you hurt your head, and how your wrist was fractured?"

"The first was accidental," I said. I closed my eyes and relived it for them. Lore's taunts, being told to sit at conn, the ship's gravity being unstable and me tumbling down the stairs. "My wrist…that was Lore, but I don't remember if it was before or after he threw me against the bulkhead." I heard my mother gasp, and I winced, but I couldn't look at her. "He asked for my comm-badge and I wasn't willing to give it to him."

"Asked?" my mother's brows were arched in disbelief.

"Well, I'm pretty sure _he_ thought he was asking."

"You should have just handed it over," she said.

"Oh, sure…now you tell me…" I was snarking so I wouldn't have to admit she was right. "It wasn't in the hand he broke, anyway. I dropped it after that, and he kicked it away."

"Much of what you are describing makes it seem as though your abduction by Lore was largely unplanned," Captain Picard observed.

"I agree, sir," Data responded. "I believe Lore recognized Zoe and grabbed her without giving it real thought."

"He definitely hadn't read _Kidnapping for Dummies_," I quipped. "Also, as a supervillain, he leaves a lot to be desired. No helmet, no cape…not even awesome body armor." My mother was glaring at me, but the doctor and the counselor were both hiding grins. I addressed the Captain. "I'm sorry, I know I sound really glib, and I'm not, I swear, it's just…sarcasm's kind of my first language, and making it funny makes it less…real."

"We all have our own defense mechanisms, Zoe," the counselor assured me. "Some of us internalize everything, others prefer to break things." I got the impression the first part was some kind of dig at the captain.

"He…he said my mouth would get me in trouble one day."

"Lore said that?" Was my mother smirking at me?

"The first time…on the Starbase…last year. Anyway…he wasn't…he wasn't wrong. Everything he did…it was my fault."

"I doubt that's true, Zoe," the captain said, not unkindly. "Can you take us through the time you spent with Lore? Be as detailed as you can."

I squinched my eyes closed, thinking about some of those details, but then I opened them again, and nodded. "I can try. Some of it…some of it's pretty graphic…I mean…he grabbed me by the hair and threw me into the bathroom at least once." I felt myself getting queasy just from the memory. "It smelled like ammonia and chlorine, and it made my eyes sting, and I'm pretty sure I threw up, but at least there was water." I opened my eyes, and glanced at Data. "I was kind of wishing I hadn't let the kids eat all the candy hearts."

"I will replicate more for you when we are through here," he promised.

I flashed him a grin, but then I refocused on the statement I was supposed to be making. I centered my attention, not on the captain or my mother, or even on Data – especially _not_ on Data – but instead on the tea in my cup. The milk was starting to separate from the rest of the liquid, and the slow eddies were oddly calming.

I took them through the remainder of my three days with Lore as well as I could. Telling it made me realize that I'd been unconscious for a lot longer than I'd realized at the time, which scared me a little. At the same time, getting everything out...that part was oddly cathartic. I knew, intellectually, that one meeting wasn't going to fix everything, but it made me feel a bit better in the moment.

As I talked, the counselor and the doctor interrupted me with questions to help me stay focused: What was Lore doing? How did I feel? Did he seem agitated?

"Zoe, when I found you, and you told me that Lore had raped you…" Data cut in with a question of his own, and hearing him ask nearly killed me. His voice was usually so well-modulated, so controlled, but I heard the quaver as he asked his question. "…you said it was your fault, then. I wish to remind you that it was _not_ your fault. I do not understand why you believe that it was. Can you elaborate?"

I stared at him. I didn't want him to know that I'd been as cruel as Lore, in my own way, hurling horrible words at him. I opened my mouth to answer, and suddenly I was back on the ship, back with Lore, right after he'd licked my neck…and Phil was pulsing on the viewer.

_"You used to be afraid of me," he says. "Don't get me wrong, little bird, I know you're afraid I'll hurt you again – and I can't deny it does something to me when you cry – but our banter…it's losing its spark, don't you think? It was so much better when it was charged with fear. Now…now you taste of…" He uses my hair to tug my head backward, and then he licks my neck. "Pity," he seems to decide. "You pity me."_

_"Shouldn't I?" I challenge. "You have what Data's always wanted, not just emotion, but actual memories of your 'childhood' with the Soongs. You have a brother who craves the same things you do: connection, belonging, acceptance, family. And what do you do? You kill everyone you've ever known. You murder your own father. You do everything possible to drive Data away from you. You are all alone."_

"It got worse from there," I said, but I couldn't see Data or my mother, or anyone else at that point. I just had Lore and Phil in my head.

"Everything was vibrating. I could see Phil oscillating and the ship was shaking and Lore was getting so…he was connected to it…to Phil. He screamed at me, and he threw me against the wall, and then was pinning me, holding my hands above my head, and it _hurt. _ He… he kissed me, but it was…if a kiss could be a form of assault, that's what he did. He was tearing at my clothes - shredding them… and Phil was cycling faster and faster and there was this sort of electronic whining sound like sirens mixed with razor blades and…" I was sobbing, caught in the memory. "And he _bit_ me. Through my bra. Hard."

Dimly, I heard my mother ask, "Who is Phil?"

"It was what Lore called the Crystalline Entity," Data explained softly. I'd shared that bit of information with him that at some point. "He told Zoe it 'looked like' it should be called Phil."

I felt a hand on my back – the counselor's. My mother had left her chair and come to stand behind me, and Data was holding my left hand, his thumb making calming circles on it.

"You can stop now, if you want," my mother said.

"Actually, it's better if she finished. Zoe, take a deep breath." Counselor Troi's voice was soothing, and Data's hand, holding mine helped center me. I did as she asked. "Good now another."

After several such breaths I was ready to go on. "Could I just finish now, without any more questions? Please?"

"Alright," Troi answered. I noticed that she made eye contact with everyone else in the room, as if confirming that they'd all just let me talk.

Mom returned to her chair, and the counselor let go of me. I could feel Data start to withdraw his hand, but I squeezed it, and he nodded slightly. I started talking again, trying hard to keep my voice low and soft.

"Lore kept saying he couldn't have nice things. He said he was going to have the first fuck, and that pigeon – that's me – was gonna get slammed." Tears were flowing freely, but I kept going. "He…my head was against the bulkhead, and he…he used his fingers, through my underwear, and then…then it wasn't his fingers, and Phil was like a disco snowflake on the viewer and the light was all weird and the ship was vibrating, and…and he…_finished _at the same time Phil exploded…or…shattered…or….whatever."

"'Pretty bird,'" I sing-songed Lore's last words to me, lost in the memory again. "'Poor broken Pigeon. Lore can't have nice things.' He was…he was horrified… just before he left. He looked like he was horrified, and grief-stricken…and then he was blank. He kicked the comm-badge back toward me, and opened up his thumb, and disappeared." I turned to Data. "So, you see…it was my fault. He raped me…and I broke him, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" I was sobbing again. I couldn't help it. I pushed my chair away from the table, the urge to bolt from the room too strong to ignore.

But Data was still holding my hand, and when I started to move he spoke my name, and reminded me very softly, "You promised not to run from me. Do not run from this either. You have done nothing wrong. It was not your fault."

I could feel everyone else watching us. My mother was leaning forward in her chair. From the corner of my eye I saw the captain set his teacup down. I heard the tell-tale sound of a tricorder being opened and activated, and I felt the counselor's hand on the back of my chair.

"Zoe," she said softly. "Look at Data. Listen to him."

I already was, but I pulled my hand from his so I could turn my chair and look directly at him.

He held out his hand for mine, and I met him half way, restoring contact. His voice was still very soft when he spoke again. "You know that I do not lie, Zoe. It was not your fault. Do you understand me?"

"But…" I wanted to believe him. Intellectually, I knew he was right, but emotionally I was a mess, I'd lost track of which way was up.

"Zoe, I do not lie, and I am telling you that it was not your fault. You are not to blame. You did not cause Lore to rape you, and you are not responsible for anything that happened to him."

I turned away from that level, golden gaze, and looked at our clasped hands. A flash of memory surfaced…a memory from New Year's Eve at Surfside, when I'd explained to Data about following the leash to the surface after a wipeout in white water. Our hands – the connection we shared – that was my leash.

"Zoe, Data's right. It wasn't your fault. Can you repeat that for me?" Counselor Troi's voice was just behind me, soothing me almost as much as Data's did.

"It wasn't my fault," I said softly. "It wasn't my fault."

"Zoe, can you tell me how you're feeling?" Counselor Troi asked.

"Scared," I answered after a couple of breaths. "And stupid. And…god…exhausted."

"That's normal. That's all very normal," Troi said.

"Zoe, sweetie, as soon as we're done, we'll go home and you can rest." I nodded absently. My mother meant well, but I didn't want to go back to our quarters and put a damper on her happiness. Her worry for me was palpable.

Captain Picard cleared his throat, and we all turned back to him. "I can see no reason to keep Zoe and Commander Harris here. Zoe, I am very sorry for all you endured, and I promise you that when we find Lore he will be dealt with to the fullest extent the law allows. I would like you to consider that you did the one thing you absolutely had to do in your situation." He waited a beat, and added looking directly at me, "You survived."

I managed a weak, watery smile. "Thank you."

"This meeting is adjourned," he said. I got the feeling he was trying not to use too much 'fleet jargon around me.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45145.99**

**(Friday, 23 February 2368, 10:27 hours, ship's time)**

"I want to punch things." I swung my right hand, still swaddled in its pink and black cast, through the air. "I don't even know _what_ I want to punch. I just want to punch things." It was my fifth session with Counselor Troi in as many days. "I mean, I'm not a violent person, really, but I just…I want to hit things. I want to see things _bleed._"

If my dark mood disturbed the counselor, she didn't let on. "To be honest, Zoe," she began, "I'd be more concerned if you didn't want to lash out at things."

"Really?" I wanted to believe her.

"Really. Lore took away your power, your control. Punching things, making them…bleed…those are ways you can be the one in control."

I fidgeted on her couch. I'd been sitting cross-legged in the center of it, but I unfolded my legs and pushed myself further back on the bench-seat, then crossed my right leg over my left at the knee. "How do I make it stop?"

"Well, you could meditate, or spend some time in the ship's spa…"

"My brain's too jittery to meditate. The spa is only fun when there's someone to go with you, and anyway, I don't want to end up being one of those people who starts weeping out a confessional the minute the masseuse touches me." I shivered. "Besides, the thought of anyone touching me…"

The counselor's dark eyes focused on my face. "Anyone?"

"Mom keeps trying to hug me and it makes me feel like I'm suffocating. She…she keeps looking at me with this expression of sadness, as if I'm some fragile, broken thing living inside her daughter's skin, and it's making me itch, and then I feel bad because she and Ed just got engaged, and she should be _happy_, not worrying about me." I took a beat. "Also, I can_not_ take enough showers. I scrub and I scrub, but I never feel _clean._"

"Has having your bathroom fitted for water helped at all?" They'd done that while I was speaking with the counselor on Monday or Tuesday. I'd spent a lot of the first couple days home sleeping. Half the time I hadn't even been tired, as much as it was just easier to stay in bed and avoid people asking me how I was feeling.

"A little. The water's never hot enough. The pressure's never hard enough."

"You sound like you want to be punished."

"Maybe I do."

"We agreed it wasn't your fault. Do you remember? Every day this week, Zoe, I've reminded you of this. _Data_ reminded you of this. He can't lie…"

"Yes, he can." She looked up sharply. "Oh, come on," I continued. "He _can_ lie. It's difficult for him because his ethics program gets in the way, but he can, if he has to."

"Alright, but he doesn't lie, as a rule, and I don't believe he would ever lie to you."

I averted my eyes. "No," I mumbled. "I guess not."

"So if Data says it wasn't your fault…?"

"But it doesn't work like that. Data – you – Mom – none of you are the arbiters of fault. And even if it isn't my fault, I still feel guilty, because…because I didn't stop him. I should have tried harder to stop him."

"You had a head injury, broken ribs, and a broken wrist. Lore is an android, one who has no compunctions about harming humanoids. What could you have done?"

"I could've tried harder to get to his power-switch," I blurted. "I should have tried _again_."

The counselor – I hadn't thought of her as _Deanna_ since I'd been going through this. I needed the separation, I think – made her expression and her tone firm. "If you had made another attempt, Lore might have killed you."

"I don't think…" I started to say that I didn't think he would actually do such a thing, but then, I'd managed to convince myself he'd never commit rape, as well. "Yeah, probably," I agreed reluctantly. "God, I'm a mess."

She smiled at me, her soft smile. "Not really. You're actually handling this pretty well, all things considered. But it hasn't even been a week, and most experts would tell you that the first week after a trauma – any trauma, not just rape – is about damage control."

"Damage control? You mean, like, making sure I'm not going to off myself in the bathroom when things get bad?"

"Yes, Zoe… things like that."

"You don't have to worry. I'm not the suicidal type. It's too much like giving up. If I kill myself, Lore wins. I still want to punch things, though."

That elicited a grin. "Good. Your anger is good. You're going to need it."

I sighed. "I guess. But how do I stop feeling guilty?"

She was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, she asked, "Why do _you_ think you feel guilty, Zoe? Aside from speaking some harsh words, what could be causing your guilt?"

"I think it's because…because I hadn't really been aware of Data as a…a potential lover…until after I met Lore. In another life, if I'd made a different choice – if he'd made a different choice – I could have ended up leaving the starbase with him, that first time. For a moment… for a brief moment… I think I might have been a little attracted to him."

I gulped air and then resettled myself, and continued. "There are – were – flashes of a different person in him sometimes. Mostly he uses humor to disarm, to distract so he can slide in the proverbial knife, but he can be pretty engaging when he wants…and there's a part of me – a part that's starting to diminish – that wonders, that may _always_ wonder what would have happened if I'd said something else."

"Do you believe that things would have ended differently?"

"No. Not really."

"Do you believe that you deserved the bruises and broken bones Lore gave you?"

"No, of course not."

"Do you believe you deserved to be raped?"

"No one deserves that," I answered softly. "No one."

"Zoe, rape isn't about sex…do you understand that?"

"It _is _sex," I said, confused. She didn't usually let me loop this far. "Isn't it?"

"No," she said, and she moved to sit next to me on the couch. "Rape is about power and control. If you could have stopped him, would you?"

"I tried to stop him," I said. "I tried to…he was so heavy and he was holding my hands, and my wrist hurt, and I tried, and then he was ripping my underwear…and….I couldn't stop him. And it hurt, and he was laughing and…." Already crying, I felt myself starting to hyperventilate, and then I felt a hand on my back. "DON'T!" I pulled away from her.

"Zoe, calm down," Troi must've said it several times before I really heard it. "Calm down. It's alright. You're on the _Enterprise_. You're safe here. You're alright."

She was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, giving me space, and I hadn't even realized she'd moved away from me. "Oh, god, Counselor Troi, I'm _sorry. _God. Am I going to be all jumpy and flashback-y forever?"

"No, I'm sorry," she said. "You mentioned that you were uncomfortable being touched, and I forgot when I tried to comfort you. And no, as I've said, all of this will fade. It hasn't even been a week."

I nodded. "Could I have a glass of water, please?"

"Of course." She got up to get it, and then sat back down next to me. "You didn't seem to mind holding Data's hand in the meeting with Captain Picard the other morning. And you didn't object to me touching you then. Was it because you expected contact?"

"Pretty much," I said, answering her second question first, and then adding, softly, "The _only_ person whose touch doesn't freak me out right now is Data…and believe me, I know how weird that seems."

"Weird?" she asked, "Why do you think so? Zoe, he's your lover, you _should_ be comfortable with him touching you."

"He's not, actually. I mean… I've been spending weekend nights in his bed, but we haven't… We almost did, but then we got interrupted, and then we were on Melona, and then…" I trailed off, took a couple of deep breaths, and then started over. "You can't tell me it it's not weird that the one person whose touch _doesn't_ freak me out is the person who is the essential twin of the man who raped me?"

Troi's voice was calm and warm. "First of all, Zoe, whether or not you and Data technically consummated your relationship is irrelevant...if you were close enough to be interrupted, you are lovers, and anyway, it's more about intimacy than actual sex."

I turned slightly toward her in an attempt to be more receptive to what she was saying.

"And second, I _can_ and I _will_ tell you that there's nothing weird about seeking comfort and solace from him. The two of you share a very special connection. It was special when you were first becoming friends, and it's even more so now. I know you love him very deeply. He's made his devotion to you abundantly clear."

That was true. Data had, actually, stayed with me until I fell asleep almost every night since I'd been back on the ship, much to my mother's discomfort (at first) and amusement (by the third day). I was pretty sure he was responsible for the mods to the shower, as well, though technically Mom's promotion the previous year might have warranted it.

I managed a watery smile. "That's true. He's been very…present. He always is. Sometimes it's almost like he _needs_ to be the one who helps me through this."

"He does," the counselor agreed. "And he needs to get through it, as well. Helping you will help him."

I nodded. "That makes sense, it just feels like it's a lot to throw at him when even basic emotional responses confuse him. I'm all…off-kilter and strange and one minute I feel like nothing happened, and the next minute I'm a basket case, and underlying it all is… _wanting_ him." I laughed, and added, "And then I'm back to the need to break things."

"About that," Troi said. "Maybe you should consider adding something a little more physical to your routine for a while. Swimming is wonderful, and I know you love the water, but…consider a self-defense class, or a novice-level martial art course. Many of the security officers offer them."

"I thought you wanted me to relax it all away?"

"That's one direction. But taking action is more your style, and I think you might find the ability to protect yourself to be rather empowering. I know I do."

_"You_ do?"

She grinned. "Starfleet requires basic self-defense no matter your specialty, but since I've been on the ship, I've been taking Worf's Mok'bara class. It's been incredibly…empowering."

"You want me to learn Mok'bara?"

"I want you to find a physical outlet. Ask Data. Let him put his research skills to work finding the perfect martial art for you."

"About Data…"

"What is it, Zoe?"

"It's Friday. I'm pretty sure my mother expects me not to spend this weekend with him, but even though I've seen him every day, we haven't really had any privacy, and…and I miss that intimacy. Even if we're just watching a vid together, when it's just us, it's different. I feel more centered. And…and I'm going a little stir-crazy, even though today's the first day I've really wanted to do much more than read and sleep and watch sappy vids between showers." I grinned to show her I was kidding, mostly.

"If you and Data have a regular routine, and you're comfortable being alone with him, then you should attempt your routine. If it's too much for you, and you need to return to your mother's quarters, just tell him."

"What if I have a meltdown like I did in that meeting? What if I find out I can't be alone with him, after all? I don't like to disappoint him. And I promised I wouldn't run from him again."

"I don't think explaining that things are too intense and then leaving counts as 'running,' Zoe. Not right now. Just be honest with him."

"I really wish you could just snap your fingers and make me be 'better.'"

"I wish so, too. Sadly, I can't. But you're stronger than you think you are, and when you can't be strong any more, you have your mother and Data and me, and a lot of other people who are here to support you."

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome." She stood up, signaling the end of our session, and I did as well. "When do you get the cast removed from your hand?"

"First thing Monday morning, and I can't wait. I haven't been able to play my cello – I guess that gives Data three hours of free time tomorrow – and I've had to have help with my hair, and getting dressed. It's been a hassle."

"I know," she said. Well, I'd spent a lot of our first session complaining about it. "Let's try something? Let's try not meeting again until after your cast is removed. If you need me over the weekend, you can call me, of course but…"

"No," I said. "I get it. I think…I think it's time to start facing the world…or at least Data's quarters and maybe the arboretum."

"Good." I turned to leave, but she called my name again. "Zoe…"

"Yes?"

"I know it doesn't seem like it, but you will get through this…you're already a lot closer to the Zoe we all know and love than you were even two days ago. Give yourself time."

"I'll try," I said. "Thank you."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45147.50**

**(Friday, 23 February 2368, 23:39 hours, ship's time)**

"Zoe, if you are this tired, perhaps you should go to bed." Data had been playing something for me on his guitar, and I had begun drifting away on the music.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm still not sleeping well. Your playing was lovely, and I really enjoyed spending the evening with you. I've missed us."

"As have I." He set the instrument aside and joined me on the couch. "If you still wish to learn guitar, we can begin when your cast is removed."

I scooted closer to him, and wrapped my arms around his middle. My cast was probably heavy against his abdomen, but he didn't seem to mind. "I'd like that," I said. "I probably won't even complain about the next ten etudes, I'm _that_ itchy to make music. I'm even looking forward to Jessie torturing me with one of her evil vocal warm-ups."

"You have been remarkably patient during this past week," he observed.

"Not really. I had a fight with Mom about going back to class yesterday. Well, more like an intense discussion. She said I could resume going to class when I slept through the night without having a nightmare. I said I'd end up an uneducated idiot. She threatened to ask you to tutor me. I used words that would make _you_ say, 'Language, Zoe.' But by then I was too exhausted to care, so she won by default."

"I am sorry you are still experiencing nightmares."

"They're less intense when you're there, but I know you won't – _can't_ – always be there. And even if you could be, I need to learn how to deal with them myself, until they go away. I try to do the lucid dreaming exercises the counselor gave me, but…"

I could tell he had just been accessing information on lucid dreaming, because he finished my sentence for me. "…but that skill assumes that you are not already operating at a sleep deficit."

"Pretty much," I agreed, punctuating my sentence with a yawn.

Data nuzzled my hair and kissed the top of my head. "We are here together tonight. Perhaps you will be able to 'catch up' on some of the sleep you have missed."

"About that…"

"If you do not feel comfortable with resuming our physical intimacy –"

"It's not that," I said, cutting him off. "God, don't you know? Don't you know how much I want you…how much I still want you? Even after? And I know… I know it's too soon, but you're… you're you." I stopped. Fatigue was making my thoughts come unraveled. "It actually makes me feel _better_ when you're physically demonstrative with me, because it's…it's _normal_. Normal for us, I mean. And I know why you've been so careful about asking me before you touch me, but honestly, it's a little annoying, and even if you ask I might still… I mean, my _mother_ held my face the other day, and _that_ made me flash back. Just… please understand that if I freak out or lash out, it's not really _you_ and it doesn't last long."

"There is something else that discomfits you, with regard to spending the night, then?"

"It's silly… I mean, it's truly silly."

"Perhaps. But if you do not tell me, I cannot help."

"I can't unhook my bra. With the cast on."

"You are embarrassed to ask for assistance?"

"I told you it was silly. Especially considering what we were doing two weeks ago."

His response was to hold me a little bit closer. "It is not silly. And I will gladly help you." He released his hold on me. "Go prepare for bed. I will join you in a moment."

Reluctantly, I pulled away from him, though I leaned back in to capture his lips in a kiss. "Thank you for being you, Data."

I left the couch before he could formulate a response, and went through the bedroom to the bathroom. The weekend before Melona, I'd actually claimed a shelf in his medicine cabinet and left a toothbrush and a few other personal items so I wouldn't have to cart them back and forth.

My shoes had long since been discarded, so I skinned out of my jeans and socks, and managed to pull off my shirt as well. Standing in Data's bathroom in my underwear, I caught the scent of chemical cleanser – the room had recently been cleaned – but it was nothing like the eye-watering scent in Lore's ship, so I tried to shrug it off. I washed away my make-up, and in my tired state I imagined I could see Lore's fingerprints on my throat.

"_…my marks are on your creamy skin…" _Lore's voice echoed in my head.

"No." I said the word to my reflection in the mirror. "No," I repeated, reaching for my toothbrush. I began brushing my teeth, but the bristles caught on my tongue stud.

_"You're wearing my piercing, and my marks are on your creamy skin."_

The stud wasn't Lore's but the hole in my tongue had been his doing. Why had I kept it? Wasn't it an insult to my relationship with Data?

_"You're wearing my piercing."_

"NO!"

"Zoe?" I heard Data's voice outside the bathroom door. "Zoe what is wrong?"

I dropped the toothbrush, and reached for the stud in my tongue. It was completely removable. All I had to do was twist. I tried, but the cast on my right hand limited the use of my fingers. If I couldn't unhook my own bra, I couldn't take out the stud. "I have to get it out," I said. "I have to…"

"Zoe, may I come in?" I looked at the door. It wasn't locked. Why would I lock it against Data? I retreated to the back wall of the bathroom, to the space between the toilet and the shower stall, and I slid down the wall until I was crouched on the floor. "Zoe I am coming in!"

The door _whooshed_ open, and Data came through, not in a burst, but in a single smooth motion. He had, I noticed, used the time I was in the bathroom to change into pajama bottoms. In the back of my mind, I registered that I _liked_ rumpled, half-dressed Data. "Zoe, what is wrong?" He dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please tell me."

"I have to get it out…" I said. I wasn't crying. I felt eerily disconnected from myself, actually. "Please? I have to get it out… He… he made the hole. He made me not whole." I knew I wasn't making sense.

Data managed to understand me anyway. "You wish to remove your tongue stud?" His question was softly spoken, but to the point.

I nodded. "Please?"

He stood up and washed his hands. Then he pulled me to my feet. "Open your mouth," he said, sounding a lot like a dentist. "Stick out your tongue." My altered state began to shift toward normalcy, and I managed a watery grin before I complied with his requests.

His hands were gentle. One twist, and the jewelry was removed.

"Thank you." I closed my mouth, and watched while he washed and dried his hands again. Then I kissed him. It wasn't as tentative as our very first kiss had been, nor was it as heated as many of our more recent exchanges, but my tongue flirted with his, and when the taste of him, the sweet, cashew essence of him penetrated my awareness, I put _my _hands on _his_ waist for a change, holding for a moment, then running them up and down his sides.

It was the first time we'd shared a kiss without a piece of metal in my tongue.

He pulled me closer, breaking the kiss to hug me, to _hold_ me. "You are 'whole,' Zoe," he said softly. "Do you believe me?" I nodded against his chest. "Come with me."

"I'm so tired."

"I know. Come." He led me to the bed, to my side of it, and he pulled back the covers. "Sit down." The pajama top I usually wore to sleep when I was with him had been laid out for me already. He moved it aside, and sat next to me. "I am going to remove your bra now." His fingers were cool against my skin as he worked the clasps with deft efficiency, and then he was sliding the straps from my shoulders, and my breasts were exposed to him.

"Data?"

He kissed my bare shoulder. "You were having a flashback, were you not?"

"Yes. Lore was…he said I wore his marks, his piercing. And I thought…god…I shouldn't have kept it."

"I understand why you needed it then; I also understand why it was suddenly urgent that you remove it."

I turned my head so I could look into his warm yellow eyes. "Am I?" I asked him softly. "Am I wearing his marks? Do they show?"

Something seemed to shift inside him, and he slid off the edge of the bed to kneel in front of me. Two weeks ago we'd been in a similar position and had been about to… "This is not about sex," Data said, as if reading my thoughts. "May I touch you?"

"Yes." I should have been annoyed that he asked; instead, I was moved.

"If anything I do makes you uncomfortable, you must tell me, and I will stop."

I nodded. I was tired, so tired, but I was curious, too. "Yes."

He kissed my lips, and then he kissed the hollow of my throat. He ghosted barely-felt kisses across each of my breasts. He placed a kiss over my navel, and then breathed kisses over my fingertips. His lips whispered on either side of my neck, back to my lips and then to the center of my forehead.

He had been absolutely correct; nothing he did was about sex. Instead, it was about trust, and acceptance, and reclamation. When he was done, I felt as though my soul had been cleansed.

"Data?" I held out the pajama top I'd snatched when he'd cast it aside. "Could you?"

"Yes." He helped me into his shirt, and fastened it closed. "Lie down. I will join you in a moment." I relaxed onto the bed, facing into the middle, and he moved to the other side of the bed, mirroring my position. Covers were pulled up; lights were extinguished.

Under the shelter of darkness, I said, "Data…I may not quite feel entirely whole, but until my tongue heals, and especially after that little ritual, I'm pretty sure I'm hol_y_."

It was a bad pun. Anyone else would have groaned. Data did not, of course. Instead, his hand went to my hip, squeezing lightly, and then releasing, though he let it rest there. "And I," he said, "am wholly devoted to you."

I smiled into the darkness, delighted by his candor and his attempt to match my silliness after all the seriousness that came before. "I love you," I told him.

I wish I could say that I spent that night free from nightmares. I didn't, but every time I woke, Data was there to soothe my nighttime terror away, and after the third bad dream, I finally found the deep, restful sleep-state that I needed.

* * *

**Notes:** First, if you haven't already, check out my one-shot "Devoted" for Data's side of "Silicon Avatar" and chapter 17 (also non-explicit). Just as in that piece, Data is playing "Prelude #4 in A-Minor," by Francisco Tárrega.

Second, yes, this was incredibly angsty, but the first week after any trauma is more about damage control – about picking up the pieces – than anything else. Zoe has a lot of healing left, and bad dreams, flashbacks, etc., are going to be popping up for a while, but this _is_ fiction, so it's not going to be quite so…concentrated.

P.S. I'm uploading this from an EconoLodge in Topeka, Kansas. We've been driving all day, and still have five more hours tomorrow. Please PM me if there are typos I didn't find. I'm incredibly tired.


	19. Glissando

**_Disclaimer:_****_ Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

* * *

**Glissando**

_In music, a __glissando__[__ɡ__lis__ˈ__sando]__ (plural: __glissandi__, abbreviated __gliss.__) is a glide from one pitch to another. It is an Italianized musical term derived from the French __glisser__, to glide._

**Stardate 45148.36**

**(Saturday, 24 February 2368, 07:14 hours, ship's time)**

For the first time in a week, I woke up feeling rested, but that had a lot to do with the man who had spent the night working in bed, rather than at his console, while I was pressed up against him. Three times in the night, I had tumbled from restful sleep into violent nightmares, and all three times Data had been there, waking me with soft words, stroking my hair, holding me while I sobbed.

I smiled softly when I opened my eyes, because the light was brighter than usual to help me avoid nightmares, and I'd caught my android boyfriend watching me sleep. "Hey," I greeted softly.

"Good morning," he responded, matching my tone. "You appear to be significantly less exhausted than you have been all week."

"You can tell that when I've barely opened my eyes?"

"Yes," he said. "The skin around your eyes is less swollen, and the color has returned to a shade that is more typical of you, and your eyes themselves are no longer bloodshot. Your pulse is also slightly slower than it was last night, which indicates that you are experiencing less stress. Finally, it has been four point two three nine hours since your last nightmare, while your recent pattern has been to wake in the throes of such a dream after an average of only ninety minutes of sleep."

I snaked a hand out of the covers so I could reach for, and tease, the back of his neck. I loved the way the ends of his hair curled under slightly, hugging his neck. That part of his hair was so soft. I couldn't help touching it. "Thank you," I said, still keeping my voice low. "Thank you for being there every time I needed you over the last week. Thank you for guarding my sleep, and soothing my nightmares, and…and for what you did last night."

"You are welcome, Zoe, of course, but…all that I have been doing is acting within my defined role as your boyfriend and your lover."

I started when he said the last word. "Lover?" I asked. _When had he decided to consider us lovers? Is this why the counselor used that word? _But I didn't let him answer. I jumped to the topic I had really meant to broach. "What you did…kissing me everywhere that he – that Lore - had hurt me …that felt like a ritual, and you can't tell me that whatever information you've accumulated on 'how to help your partner cope with sexual assault and trauma' gives recipes for rituals."

"No," he agreed, "I cannot."

"Then where did it come from? It was beautiful, and it was perfect, and…" I stopped and made a helpless gesture.

"You asked if Lore's marks showed on your skin. They did not; they _do_ not_. _All the physical harm you experienced has been healed, with the exception of your wrist. I could not erase the fact of what happened to you, but I could, last night, and as often as you require me to, replace his touch with my own."

"Did you know it would work?"

"I did not know, I only…hoped."

"If I want to talk about what happened…more than just what I had to say in that meeting with the captain…but really talk about it – with you, I mean – is that…okay?"

"Do you wish to talk about it, Zoe?"

"Not right now, no. I just want to know if I _can_. If it's…you've been so patient and supportive, and… and I owe you –"

"No."

"No, I can't talk to you about it?"

"No, you do not 'owe' me. There are no checks and balances, Zoe, nor are there entries in a ledger. We are a couple, a unit. There is no debt; there is no owing. If you are in need of an anchor, then let me be that for you. It is… what I am 'good at.'"

"So, that's a yes, then?" I teased lightly.

"Yes," he said. "You may talk to me about whatever you wish, and I will listen. I cannot guarantee that I will be able to offer insight, however."

I smiled, and moved my hand from where I'd still been playing with his hair, to his chest. I don't know why I was so entranced by that expanse of smooth gold skin, only that it was the best way to feel the _thrum_ of him moving through me.

"Sometimes," I said, "insight isn't necessary. Sometimes, just the act of talking is enough. And when that doesn't work, you could try that ritual again. I think there might be a few spots you missed." I gave him a look that was both a challenge and a promise, the latter to be collected at an unspecified future date. "I'm going to use the bathroom, and then I'm going to go back to sleep for a while. If you could squeeze a plan for our usual Saturday session, something that doesn't involve me having to use my right hand, into the other eight million tasks that are active in your brain right now, that would be cool."

He didn't correct the number of items he was actively working on. He _did_ make a point of watching me as I slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom. When I returned a few minutes later he lifted the covers so I could get back into the bed more easily, and then formed them into a cocoon around us both.

"I wish to make a request of you, if you are 'up to it,'" Data began, when I was nestled in his arms. "I would like to continue your dance lessons today. While you will still require some use of your right hand, it will only be to hold mine, and I believe we can manage a way for you to do so comfortably."

I smiled. "I'd like that," I said. "Could you lower the lights all the way? I think I'll be alright with real darkness for a couple of hours."

The room plunged into darkness, but I was wrapped in Data's arms, and thinking about dancing with him. Nightmares wouldn't _dare_ ruin this for me.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45148.68**

**(Saturday, 24 February, 2368, 10:04 hours, ship's time)**

"Damn it!" The only reason I hadn't hurled my brush at the mirror is because I knew it would just make Data come running. As it was, he appeared in the open bathroom door, anyway."

"Let me help," he said.

"Do you do hair now as well as handle undergarments?" He'd had to help me put _on_ the bra he'd so very deftly removed the night before. "Gah! I hate this. I hate that I can't even sleep through the night when I'm with the one person I trust more than anyone. I hate that I keep hearing his words in my head, and feel his hands on me. I hate that I go from fine to jumpy in the blink of an eye, even when there's no _reason_ to be. I hate that I can't do normal things, and I hate that everyone's fussing over me, and I really, really hate that I actually _need_ you to help me."

If my outburst fazed him at all, he didn't let it show. "Zoe," he took the brush from my hand, and pulled me against his chest. He was still in pajamas – well, pajama bottoms – having graciously given me the first turn at the bathroom. I was pretty sure he didn't actually need to shower, not being someone who sweated, ever, but I knew from experience that it was part of his morning routine. "This is not a permanent condition. Your cast will be removed on Monday morning, and that alone will allow you to resume much of your normal routine."

"There is that," I sniffed. "I just… I know you won't judge me, but I also don't like being this weak and helpless in front of you."

"You have made that abundantly clear," he said, the phrase coming out with just a hint of snark. Snark he probably absorbed from me. "I have replicated coffee for you. Come sit and drink it, and I will handle your hair."

"Wait, you actually _do_ do hair? Since when?" My original remark about it had been rhetorical, but I was honestly curious.

"There are many instructional videos in the ship's computer library," he explained. "I anticipated that there would come a time when I would require the information." He kissed the top of my head. "Zoe, you are neither weak nor helpless," he reminded me as he guided me to the table. "You _are_ recovering from trauma and a related injury. Please do not be so hard on yourself. "

I sat at the table, and noticed that he'd replicated more than coffee. There was also a spinach and mushroom omelet. "Doesn't it frustrate you at all?" I asked.

He took the chair opposite mine. "I have experienced frustration," he admitted. "Not as an emotion, but as a condition. When you were on Lore's ship, and I was required to put the greater mission of preventing the Crystalline Entity from doing more harm ahead of bringing you home, I was frustrated and I also experienced helplessness. For an officer, for an android, the inability to take action, the necessity of putting the greater mission ahead of the more personal one, that instilled a sense of helplessness. I was certain you were with Lore. I had traced his ship. And yet there was _nothing_ I could do."

His words were uttered in his typical matter-of-fact inflection, but there was a hint of softness around his eyes, a tiny shift in the set of his jaw, that leant them more weight. I reached across the table with my left hand, and covered his. "Counselor Troi suggested that _your_ need to be part of my recovery is nearly as strong as _my_ need for you to be the person I lean on." Unspoken, but plainly heard nevertheless, was my question: _Is that true? _

"That is not an inaccurate assessment," he said. He gestured to my plate, and encouraged, "Eat," and I withdrew my hand so that I could. "You are my girlfriend, and your harm came at the hands of my brother. Either of those things is enough to cause me to assume some responsibility."

"If it wasn't my fault," I said between bites of omelet. "It certainly wasn't yours."

"It is my preference that you not be in pain. I have recently discovered that it is also my preference that I be part of the easing of your pain when it occurs."

Inside I was melting. The tiny revelations, coming more and more often, of the depth of Data's caring for me made _me_ want to offer _him_ comfort. Actually, they made me want to offer him a lot of other things, but it wasn't the right time. I searched for an appropriate response, but no words seemed adequate, so I just said, "You are. You always are."

I finished breakfast, and Data twisted my hair into a loose braid down my back, with a few wispy tendrils left floating around my face. I studied his handiwork in the mirror, and smiled.

"Do you approve?" he asked.

"I think you could give Mr. Mott a run for his money," I answered, smiling. "Thank you. If Keiko and Chief O'Brien have a girl, you'll be able to put your hair dressing skills to work."

"That thought had not occurred to me."

"I just assumed that's why you'd done the research. You're going to be the baby's honorary uncle, even if they don't make you godfather, aren't you?" I grinned, and teased, "'Uncle Data' has a nice ring to it."

"The O'Briens and I have never discussed what role, if any, I will have in their child's life. The research on human hair arrangement was originally conducted when Lal chose a human female form. I nearly deleted the information from my memory banks when she opted for shorter hair."

"Why didn't you?"

"I am uncertain. Retaining the data simply 'seemed like a good idea.' It is not as though I am approaching the limit of my storage capacity."

"And it gave you a good excuse to play with my hair," I teased.

Data gave me the look that meant he knew I was teasing him, but couldn't actually rebut what I'd said. "That is true," he agreed. "I have reserved the holodeck for only two hours. If we are to complete a dance lesson this morning, we must leave."

"I'm ready when you are," I said.

**(=A=)**

For two hours, we danced on the holodeck, and by the end of our time, I was comfortable with three different social dances. Data had ended our session with the polka, "…though I am told it is rarely included in formal dances any longer."

"Then, why teach me?" I asked.

"There are two reasons," he explained. "First, the music is light, what you would consider 'happy' or 'festive,' and I believe a less serious mood would be beneficial to you right now."

"That's fair," I said. "I have been kinda dark and broody."

"I did not mean to criticize. As we have discussed, you must not hide your real feelings from me, even when they are 'dark and broody.' After what you have experienced, I believe a more somber emotional state will be your 'normal' for a while."

"Yeah, probably," I agreed. "What's the second reason?"

"You are typically an athletic person. You surf, you swim, you have taken performance dance lessons for most of your life. The polka does not involve impact, so your wrist will be protected, but when executed correctly, it can be quite exuberant."

"You think I need the physical release," I said. I wasn't asking, but I was touched that he knew me so well. "You're not wrong. I told the counselor yesterday morning that I felt the need to punch things."

"Ah."

"Yes, exactly."

"Shall we begin?"

It turned out that the polka, once you were at a decent tempo, felt a lot like flying.

**Stardate 45157.42**

**(Tuesday, 27 February 2368, 14:48 hours, ship's time)**

Ten-Forward was busier than was usual for late 'afternoon' on the _Enterprise_, but, as Data explained to me over the late lunch I'd invited him to, that was because the ship was between assignments.

"If the boring parts mean I get to spend time with you in the middle of the day, I'm all for them," I said. "Besides, we're celebrating. Someone at this table actually went to class this morning."

"Zoe, I am glad to hear that," he responded. "If you require any assistance in 'catching up' with your classes, please do not hesitate to call on me, but, I am confused. I thought Counselor Troi had recommended that you remain out of class for the remainder of this week."

I shook my head. "When we met yesterday afternoon, she said I could try half-time. Morning classes only. It's not really help I need, though, I don't think, so much as sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?"

"Mom and Ed have started planning their wedding, and I'm happy for them, I am, and I'm even happy to participate, but it's really hard to concentrate, especially since he's basically living with us now, and that means _Bogart_ is living with us – he ate one of my flip-flops the other day…"

"Ah! Then when you request sanctuary, you are seeking a quiet place to concentrate on your homework?" He waited for my confirming nod, then continued. "My quarters are at your disposal, of course."

"I don't want to abuse your generosity," I said softly. "I'll always ask before dragging my schoolwork there. I don't want you to get tired of me, or feel like I'm in the way."

"You have said more than once that my quarters 'feel like home' to you. If you wish to consider them a second home aboard-ship, I am not averse to that."

"But not tonight, right? It's your turn to host poker night, isn't it?" But his reply was delayed because our food arrived: spanakopita and yellow lentil soup with a lovely lemony accent. One order, double utensils, and a pot of mint tea.

"You are correct. We are typically finished by midnight, if you wish to meet before your curfew."

"I love you to bits, Data, but I think I'll survive without a goodnight kiss for one evening. Especially since I have _your_ class tomorrow. Um…am I allowed to ask you for help with _that_ catching up, or should I ask Geordi, since he's in charge of my grades?"

"I do not believe it is a conflict of interest for me to provide assistance, should you need it," he said after a brief hesitation.

I smiled around one of the triangles of spanakopita. "I'll let you know after class tomorrow. Tonight, I have a different sort of assignment I have to work on."

"May I ask what it is?"

"Always. But it's not that interesting." I hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I spent most of last week ignoring my friends, even though I knew they were worried about me, and then I spent the entire weekend with you. A quiet, mostly private, weekend after all the fuss was what I needed, but sometimes…" I trailed off, toyed with my soup spoon for a moment, and started again. "Being with you…it requires me to interact on a different level. Sometimes, I feel like I'm way older than I'm supposed to be…so I need an external reminder that I'm still seventeen… and that I can be with you, and that doing so doesn't mean giving up typical teen experiences, it just means that I choose them a little bit more mindfully."

"I am not certain I understand."

I favored him with a rueful grin. "No, but I think I win the babbling portion of today's event, anyway. I guess all I'm trying to say is… you have your game night, and I have mine. My 'assignment' is to go hang out with my friends."

"Are you going to tell them what happened while you were…away?"

I shrugged. "Not sure yet. I probably should. I mean… I feel pretty normal right this minute, but my moods have been shifting like sand the last few days, and Counselor Troi said it could be months before I'm evened-out…"

His hand covered mine on the table. "You know that I am here for you, whenever you need me."

My smile, that time, was softer. "I know, and I love you for it…and for about a million other things, but, you can't be my only support system."

We ate in silence for a while, but when I'd finished my soup, and the last piece of spanakopita, Data broached a new subject. "If your schedule will allow, I believe we should resume work on your audition pieces. The information you provided specified a deadline of Stardate 45204 for sending your audition recording to the Martian Academy. While I am certain that you are ready to record the required pieces, I know that you will feel more confident with more rehearsal time."

"Too true," I agreed. "Why do I get the feeling you don't think Saturday Sessions will be enough?"

"Because they will not. Our quartet is currently on hiatus; I propose that we begin this Thursday evening, and save 'video night' for our weekends."

"It's only for a few weeks," I agreed. "I'm good with that." I drained the last of the tea from my cup, and then set it aside. "I should get going. I promised Dana I'd meet everyone at sixteen hundred hours."

"I will see you out," he said, as we both rose to our feet.

Commander Riker and Chief O'Brien were standing together at the end of the bar, and they beckoned us over, as we were leaving. "It's good to see you out and about, Zoe," Riker said. "I'm sorry I haven't stopped by to speak with you or your mother."

"There was really no need," I said. "But today's actually my second day back in the world." I grinned, explaining, "I spent yesterday playing in the dirt." I'd actually gone directly to the arboretum after getting my cast off, and spent the morning helping an incredibly pregnant Keiko plant Selayan bromeliads.

"Keiko mentioned that," the chief put in. "She was grateful for the assistance, and the company. She's due along any minute if you want to say hello."

"Thank you," I said. "But I have somewhere I have to be. Data?" I turned to him. "Make sure you win scads from everyone tonight." I knew he could tell I meant for him to stay with his friends, and he took that cue.

"I will do my best," he said, "but Commander Riker is a formidable opponent."

"Have her give you a kiss for luck," O'Brien teased good-naturedly.

I rolled my eyes at that but turned to Data anyway. "It cannot hurt," he pointed out, apparently agreeing with the chief's suggestion. His lips met mine briefly. "I will see you later," he added _sotto voce_, and I knew he meant he'd be stopping by after his game, after all.

Smiling, I left the three of them at the bar, and went to set up my own personal anger management therapy.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45157.59**

**(Tuesday, 27 February 2368, 16:21 hours, ship's time)**

"We're going to need a bigger table," Josh said as he began arranging the board and pieces of a new game he'd acquired. It involved each of us being in charge of different ships, and having to build crews and work jobs like ferrying cargo or passengers, or hacking into computer systems in order to earn in-game money and become 'solid' with different sector leaders.

"We should go to a holodeck and use your café program, Zoe," Dana suggested.

"Tempting, but you know holodeck time has to be reserved eons in advance," I pointed out. An idea began to blossom, though, and I added, "Maybe there is an alternative place we can play."

"You have your 'idea face' on," Rryl observed. "That usually leads to excitement."

"So it does," I said. We'd actually been hanging out for about twenty minutes, if 'hanging out' included my friends complaining that I'd been out of class for a week. They'd meant well, and let it go when they could tell their good-natured ribbing bothered me, and then we'd picked a game to play. Except it was a game that clearly required more space than we had available. "I was thinking we could go use one of the classrooms. No one's ever on the school deck after classes, and the tables are bigger."

"Oh! Good idea," Rryl said.

So we gathered up the game pieces and trooped down the corridor to the 'lift, and then to the empty schoolrooms.

"Is it me," Dana asked, "or is it slightly creepy in here when nothing else is going on?"

"A little," I said. Whatever cleaning agent had been used on the tables and writing boards had a hint of bleach or ammonia in it, and I was trying not to smell it, because it reminded me of the bathroom on Lore's ship. "Computer, lights to 80 percent of standard lux."

The room brightened considerably, and that helped me to ground myself, but my best friend caught something in my expression, and asked, "Zoe, are you okay?"

I gave her a rueful smile, "Yeah… I mean… mostly."

Dana reached out to squeeze my shoulder. "If you want to talk about it…" she began.

"I do, and I don't," I said. I glanced up at the boys, who both wore sympathetic looks. "How much do you already know?"

"Commander Data said you had been kidnapped," Rryl answered.

"Yeah," I said. "Among other things. Look… I'll tell you, because I'm going to need all your help getting past it, probably, but… I'm scared of what you'll think of me."

"You're our friend, Zo'," Josh stated, as if that was everything. "We'd rather know than not."

"Yes," Dana agreed. "I'm pretty sure whatever we're wondering is worse than what happened."

"Don't be so sure," I told them, but we all took seats around the table in the classroom we'd chosen – the room where Ed taught our literature class, actually – and I told them the short version of where I'd been for three days, and what had happened, leaving out the rape part. "He left me there, after the crystalline entity was destroyed. He just left me…"

"And Data found you, right?" Dana asked. "He cancelled class that Friday, and when I went to his quarters to ask what had happened he seemed… I don't know… really small."

"You went to his quarters?" I don't know why that surprised me, but it did.

"Well, yeah," my friend said, as if it was an obvious choice. "Your mother was so upset. Rryl's mother, and my father, and Josh's father all sat with her, and the Prof was almost teary and then you were back, but not seeing people."

"Except for a meeting with the captain, and seeing Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher, yesterday was the first time I've been anywhere but my quarters, Data's quarters, or the medical decks since I got back." I told my friends. "I really wasn't trying to avoid class."

"You're not sharing something," Rryl said, and I stared at the Akkallan boy. "You wish to, but you are worried."

"I didn't know your people were telepathic," Josh said.

"We are not," Rryl answered. "But Zoe's pain is almost physical, and she is my friend, too."

I squeezed my eyes closed. "Lore… he didn't just hit me and toss me around his ship. He…" I whispered it, because saying out loud was too much. "He raped me."

"Asshole!" Josh announced what I'm pretty sure they were all thinking. I should know; I'd thought it enough times.

Three pairs of arms enfolded me, and even though I stiffened at first – I really disliked being grabbed – I managed to remind myself that my friends would never hurt me. After a few seconds, it actually felt almost good.

"Zo' if you don't want to play…?" Josh said, after he, Dana, and Rryl had all let me go. "I mean, if you want we could just go watch a video…?"

I shook my head. "No," I said. "Playing a game is exactly what I need right now. I've spent so much time inside my own head… and Data's been amazing, really, but sometimes I need to just be seventeen, you know?"

"Alright, then," Josh said, standing up so he could better reach to arrange the board. "But don't think we're gonna go easy on you, just because your boyfriend's psychotic evil twin tried to make you his bitch."

Something about his declaration struck me as being so absurd that I couldn't help but giggle, and soon enough the giggles became outright laughter, and then everyone else was laughing too.

**(=A=)**

We'd been in the empty school room, playing our game for about an hour, when the lights went out.

"Josh, what did you touch?" Dana and I asked together.

"Nothing!" our friend protested, but none of us would have been surprised if he had. Josh was always the one to press a button just to see what it might do. "I swear, nothing."

Dana started to refute her boyfriend's statement, but Rryl hushed her. "Listen! The computer's saying something."

At first, I thought he was crazy, but as the emergency lighting began to glow, we all heard the mechanical female voice of the ship's computer.

_This is a ship-wide emergency. Please remain calm. All Starfleet personnel report to emergency posts. Civilian personnel, please report to designated shelter areas. This is not a drill. Repeat: this is a ship-wide emergency…_

"Well," Josh said, "_that_ kind of ruins the mood."

"Understatement of the year," Dana sing-songed. "Where is our designated shelter area?"

"Actually," I began, "I think we're…"

"Hello? Is anyone in here?" The voice that cut me off was oddly familiar, but it wasn't coming from the corridor. It was coming from above us. There was a clang and a thud, as something roughly humanoid landed in a heap on the floor against one of the walls. "That… that wasn't supposed to happen."

Josh, Dana, and I all looked at each other, and said at the same time, "Barclay."

Rryl, on the other hand, asked, "Who's Barclay?"

"I – I am." The lanky engineer had managed to find his feet and had joined our group. "It's Lieutenant Barclay, actually," he said to Rryl. "You can call me Reg. I've seen you before, but I don't know your name."

"He's Rryl," I said. "From Akkalla."

"Ah, Akkalla," Barclay said. "That's a water world."

"Have you been there?" Rryl asked. He loved talking about his planet.

"Oh, yes. I was posted there for a while. Longest two weeks of my life."

"Since when does Starfleet post people for only two weeks at a time?" I had to know.

"It was decided that the position wasn't the best use of my skills. It might have had to do with the fact that I almost drowned. Twice."

"You don't swim?" Rryl asked.

"It's not my strongest skill, no." He looked at each of us, as if trying to decide if we were friend or foe. Finally he settled on me, which made sense, I suppose, since I'd had the most interaction with him. "Zoe… does anyone know you're here?"

"You do," I said. "Otherwise, probably not. We needed a bigger table, and no one uses the classrooms after hours. We heard the emergency warning, and were trying to figure out where our designated shelter area was supposed to be, and then you…landed. Why were you in the duct?"

"I was working in one of the access tubes when the emergency bulkhead activated. This room was the closest place I could safely ex – exit." He tapped his comm-badge, which chirped hopefully. "Barclay to Bridge, I'm in schoolroom –" He broke off, looking at us.

"Seven," Josh whispered.

"- seven." Barclay continued. "Bridge?" There was no answer. "Well, that – that's not good," he said, more to himself then to us. "Comm systems are down," he announced, though I wasn't sure if it was for our benefit or his own. "As to your emergency shelter point, it should be the school multipurpose room."

The school took up roughly sixteen rooms, including the daycare center on deck 14. The multipurpose room wasn't that far away. "Should we put the game away first?" Dana asked.

"N-no," Barclay stammered, and then, more firmly, he repeated the word, "No. We should all leave right now."

He led the way toward the door, and then out into the corridor, but when we got to the main door for the secondary school suite, that door wouldn't open. "Really not good," he said, and that time I knew he was speaking to himself.

"Maybe we should take a moment to put the game away, after all," I said. "Give Reg time to figure something out."

"Agreed," Rryl and I walked back to the classroom where we began and Josh and Dana followed after a beat or two, but none of us made any attempt to pack up.

Barclay set about pulling apart the door panel, which took about ten minutes. We heard him clunking and muttering. "Manual override worked…sort of. It's open about three centimeters."

"Can we help?" Josh called from the doorway. "Maybe find something to use as a lever?"

We looked around, but the table and chair legs were all too thick, even if they had been removable, and while he had a couple of padds, Barclay was certain they were too flimsy.

"So, we're stuck here?" I asked, when he returned to our space.

"It would, I mean I think… well, yes. But life support seems to be functioning, so we're probably not in any imminent danger."

"The teacher's lounge is in our section," Dana supplied helpfully. "Let's see if we can get in there. If we can, then we have access to a bathroom, if we need it."

That door was standing open, and the bathroom door functioned perfectly when we tested it. The lounge had a replicator, as well, which we also tested. It was limited to basic menus, but seemed to be working.

"Why are the doors within the section functioning but not the door out of the secondary school and into the main hall?" I asked.

Reg appeared to think it over. After a minute or so, he said. "I can't be certain, but my guess is that the power failure isn't entirely ship-wide, but more large clusters of the ship, making it _seem _ship-wide. Systems here and there are fine, but there are patches where they're…not."

"So, what do we do?" Dana wanted to know.

"We stay in one place, and wait for someone to find us," the engineer said.

Josh glanced at all of us, but settled his gaze on Barclay. "Want to play a game?"

**(=A=)**

"I have now completed a 'job that is dirty' by delivering several metric tons of cow manure to the colony at New Texas," Lt. Barclay announced several hours later. "This means I have completed the task-list. I win!" He seemed both perplexed and surprised.

"Lt. Barclay, this is not a designated shelter area," came a voice from directly behind him.

We all looked toward the door, realizing all at once that the room illumination and returned to the 80% we'd specified before the power had gone out.

"Commander LaForge…I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…" His stammering got worse when he was nervous, I realized. "The main door wouldn't open."

"Lt. Barclay realized we were all scared," I put in. "So, instead of climbing back into the duct to see if he could blow the door open from the other side, he stayed here with us." Could he tell I wasn't being entirely truthful?

"And then we coerced him into playing," Josh added. "To help distract us. He won."

But Geordi was laughing. "It's alright," he said. "I don't blame you. A lot of people got stuck in the wrong places. I'm just glad you're all okay. I actually came down here looking for Reg."

"Sir?"

"I need your help in sickbay. We have a very delicate patient."

It took me less than a second to figure out who the only patient who would require two engineers could be. "It's Data, isn't it?" I asked. "Geordi…please tell me?"

"Yeah, Zo', it is."

"How bad?"

"I'm pretty sure we can repair him," he said seriously. "But it's –"

I cut him off. "I want to come with you."

Geordi was silent for what seemed like a long time, and I braced for an argument. My friends were quietly packing up our game. Finally, he made a decision. "Okay," he said. "Let's get going… the rest of you, pack up and go back to quarters. Your parents are probably worried."

"Are communicationss back up?" I asked.

"Yeah, they are." As if to demonstrate, he tapped his badge. "LaForge to sickbay. I'm on my way back with Lt. Barclay. He was with Zoe and some of her friends in the secondary school."

_"Acknowledged. Thank you, Geordi," _came Dr. Crusher's voice from the tiny speaker.

I followed both engineers out of the room, down the hall to the door that functioned as if there had never been a problem, and into the turbo-lift. They used the trip to discuss what was wrong with Data – something about melted power couplings – and I tried not to panic. I'd never seen Data injured before, and just the idea of it was making me feel nauseous and strange.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45158.76**

**(Wednesday, 28****th**** February, 2368, 02:33 hours, ship's time) **

"Where's his head? Geordi, where's his head?" That had been the first thing I'd said when confronted with Data's scorched and melted-looking body on the diagnostic bed around eleven-thirty Tuesday night.

"Commander Riker's bringing it," he said. "Doc, you have the scans?" he continued, addressing Dr. Crusher.

"Sending them to your console now," she said from her position near the sickbay computer's main controls.

"Looks like all of his primary power couplings need to be restored, as well as re-attaching his head. I don't see any more internal damage. We're going to have to cut his uniform off and do a visual examination of his skin."

"Repairing the bio-plas sheeting is my job," the doctor said. "You and Reg can handle his internal repairs, can't you?"

The blind engineer nodded. "Yeah. There's a lot of couplings, but the actual repair work isn't that difficult. I estimate two or three hours, if we use medical nanites to do some of the work."

"Na- nanites?" Reg asked, having apparently been listening as well as reading the information that was duplicated on his console – he and Geordi were positioned across from each other on either side of the table. "Is that… is that really a good idea? We've had trouble with nanites before."

"These are limited duration medical nanites, Reg," the doctor assured. "They vaporize after ninety minutes and are eliminated from the body via blood and fluids."

"Don't worry, Reg; we're not putting them inside _you_." Geordi teased.

"That is a consolation," Barclay replied, but it was obvious he wasn't kidding.

Once the two men began working in earnest, with the help of the nanites, Dr. Crusher finally registered my presence. "Zoe, are you sure you want to be here?" she asked, not unkindly.

"Data's been here for me, every time," I said softly.

"Yes, but _Data _ isn't a young woman who is clearly," she whipped out her tricorder, scanning me as if to back up what she'd already surmised, "dehydrated and probably hungry."

"I'll sit on one of the empty beds and eat soup if you force me, but I want to… No. I _need _to be here."

She met my eyes, holding my gaze. I didn't back down. "Alright," she said, "you'd be the first person we'd notify if anything happened, anyway. Just don't distract Geordi and Reg." She made as if to leave, but halted and gave me a wry grin. "I'm holding you to the soup, though. Come through to my office. That's the closest replicator."

I followed her into the small but somehow homey office, let her select a snack first, and then ordered a bowl of Italian wedding soup. "It's weird," I mused aloud, "how things can change so much in less than a year."

"Oh?" She sat in her office chair, and motioned for me to take one of the chairs opposite. "Have a seat."

I scooted the chair closer so I could use the visitor side of her desk as an ersatz dining table. "The first time I saw Data's machine-y insides, I felt like I'd trespassed on something private…like it was an intimacy I hadn't earned yet, even though all he was doing was adjusting an actuator in his arm." She gave me a look, and I explained, "He'd done something to approximate tendonitis during one of our music lessons, and was setting back to spec."

She grinned, "Sounds like Data. How about now?"

"Is it weird that I can look at the headless body of a man I've shared a bed with, and my first thought is, 'If he makes it through this, I want to throw a costume party and make him dress as the Headless Horseman?'"

She snorted with laughter. "Now _that_ I would love to see," she said. "Speaking of which… I wanted to ask if you'd consider being part of my next play. It's right up your alley, and you don't have to audition."

"It depends. What's the play?"

"_Little Women_," she said. "I want you to be our Jo. You have the perfect combination of girlish spunk and young womanly grace, and I'm pretty sure the person I've got in mind for the professor would play against you perfectly." She glanced out at the main part of sickbay.

"Data?" I asked. "You want Data to play Professor Bhaer?"

"Don't you think he could?"

"I _know_ he could," I said.

"Thank you, Zoe. I agree." I turned in my chair, expecting to see Data, and having a moment of disconnect when it was just his head, held gently in Commander Riker's hands. "It is very late," he continued, oblivious to the bizarreness of the situation. "You should not be here."

"Uh-uh, don't even try to make me go home," I said. "You are not the only one of us who gets to keep vigils. Besides, I want to see how this re-capitation thing works."

He managed, though I don't know how, to convey the image of a tilted head, without having a neck to do it on.

Riker winked at me, and went to deliver Data to…Data. I drained my mug of soup and got up to recycle it. "I'd like to do it," I said. "Play Jo. I wanted to _be_ her for a while when I was little."

"I think a lot of little girls want that," the doctor mused. I caught her wistful smile as I left her office.

**(=A=)**

By two-thirty in the morning, all of Data's melted couplings had been coupled again, his head had been reattached (which was less interesting than I expected), and the doctor had regenerated the pale, gold bio-plas sheeting that formed his skin. He'd been deactivated for much of the work, and would remain so until everything had been completed.

There had been some joking around when it had come time to make that final repair, as it had required cutting Data's uniform off him. Commander Riker, who had stayed to watch the procedure as well, kept making ribald jokes to 'let Zoe undress him; she's probably pretty good at it by now,' and things of that ilk.

I knew he was only doing it to cut the tension but after about the fifth crack, I snapped at him, forgetting his rank, and said, "Seriously, are you twelve?"

For one long moment everyone – and everything – went silent. Then the commander let out this huge roar of laughter. "Finally," he said. "Finally, you treat me like a normal person. How many times have I asked you to just call me Will?"

"A lot," I said, as I didn't have Data's capacity for spouting off precise numbers. "But I pretty much assumed you didn't mean it."

He moved around the diagnostic table where Data remained, preternaturally still, and sat next to me on the bio-bed I'd been perched on. "You're not an officer under my command, Zoe. You're the daughter of one friend, and the… significant other… of another. Use my name, please?" The words were quiet, but the extension of friendship was real. "After all, you're the only other person I know who truly appreciates cheeseburgers and fries."

I had to laugh at that. "Okay," I said. "Okay, _Will_, but next time we're getting the curly fries, no matter what you say."

While we'd been talking and laughing, Geordi, Reg, and Dr. Crusher had completed the last of Data's repairs. All the panels were sealed. All the nanites purged. "It's time," Geordi said. "Zoe," he continued, as he and Reg rolled Data slightly onto his side. "Want to do the honors?"

I slid off the bio-bed and approached the diagnostic table. "Zoe," the doctor began, standing over him on the other side of the table, her tricorder at the ready. "Data has a power switch located in –."

I cut her off, with a soft, "I know."

I don't know what my expression was, but hers told me she was reassessing me, and my relationship with her colleague. "Of course you do," she said after a moment.

Touching Data's skin, with all of those people around, was slightly unnerving, but watching one of them activate the switch would have been more so. In my head, I kept flashing back to year before, when I wanted to touch him, and couldn't, and more recently, when touching him, when him touching me, had become – not routine – because I don't think either of us was ever going to not feel some small bit of wonder – but... typical, I guess.

My hand found the button beneath his skin, and I _pressed_, but I was caught in memory, and when life surged back through the man I loved, my head sent me back to his brother's ship, to when he was on top of me, and I was trying to…

_"Pigeon mustn't touch the button… ah-ah-ah." _

_No_. I said the word in my mind. _Stop. _

_"Pretty pigeon. Poor broken bird." _

"NO."

"Zoe?" Dimly, I realized that Data was wiggling his fingers back and forth, testing to see if connections were truly restored. "Zoe, are you alright?"

"Pigeon's a broken bird," I said, but I was hearing myself say it, at the same time.

"What's going on?" Geordi's worried voice.

"She's having a flashback," the doctor said.

"She attempted to deactivate Lore when she was with him," I heard Data explain. "Performing the same action on me must have triggered her memory loop."

"Humans can't have mem- memory loops, can they?" Barclay. If I were more myself, I'd be taking wagers on how soon he'd be looping.

"Actually, we can," the doctor said. "Zoe, you're on the _Enterprise. _You're safe. Data's here, and he's fine, and you're safe."

I could feel Geordi and Commander Riker hovering behind me. "Too close," I said. "Everyone's too close."

"Give her some space, gentlemen," the doctor said.

"Can you give her something?" Will asked softly.

"NO!"

"Zoe cannot shake herself out of her nightmares if she is under sedation." Data explained my behavior again. "Zoe, it is me. It is Data. You are in sickbay. You re-activated me. You are safe." He was speaking to me the same way he did after every nightmare. I saw him shift his position on the table, so he was sitting up, with uniform-clad legs dangling over the side. "May I touch you?" he asked.

I stepped into his arms, let him enfold me. "I'm sorry," I said into his shoulder, even though I meant it for everyone.

"No," he said. "You have done nothing wrong. Take a deep breath."

I did as he bade me.

"Another."

Wash, rinse, repeat. A few minutes later, I pulled away from him, and looked around sheepishly. "Well," I said. "_That_ wasn't embarrassing at _all._"

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about," Dr. Crusher said in her best don't-argue-with-me-I'm-a-medical-professional voice. "It hasn't even been two weeks since…everything. You're doing remarkably well, considering."

I nodded.

"I don't understand. What did Zoe go through? I thought she just wandered away from everyone on Melona?" Trust Reg to be so far out of the loop he was orbiting a completely different star.

"Do you mind if I don't explain just now?" I asked. "I only had my first morning back in class today – well, yesterday, now – and I'm kind of fried."

I started laughing at my own choice of word, even as Data corrected me, in his perfect deadpan, "No, Zoe, _I_ was fried. You are merely exhausted." He glanced around the room. "If everyone is satisfied that I am sufficiently repaired, I will escort Zoe home, and conduct a self-diagnostic on my own."

"Let me get you a medical tunic to wear home," the doctor said, disappearing for a moment, and then returning. "Zoe, stop by here after you've slept. I'll make sure you're excused from classes tomorrow."

"I'm only back in class half time, and that teacher is already here," I said. I felt thick and silly. Exhausted. I met Data's eyes, after he'd pulled the borrowed shirt over his head. "Home sounds good."

He bid goodnight to everyone and guided me out of sickbay and to the nearest turbo-lift, but we didn't go to deck ten, which was technically where home was for me. We stopped at deck eight, and his quarters. "Data…it's a school night. I can't be here if it's a school night."

"As you are not going to class tomorrow, and as there are extenuating circumstances, I believe your mother will make an allowance."

"I'm really tired."

"I know."

I managed to use the bathroom and splash water on my face, and then I went to the bedroom, so desperate to be horizontal that I was skinning my clothes off as I moved through the space, finally collapsing onto the bed. He was half undressed, holding his pajama bottoms in front of him, and I saw him register my nude form, and note that I'd picked up the pajama top I typically wore during our... sleepovers, and tossed it aside. "No."

I couldn't explain why, I was so tired, and the flashback I'd had had rattled me more than I think even he had realized. The thought of anything but skin touching my skin was somehow repulsive. I felt like I was the one who had melted, was melting.

"Zoe…?"

"Can you… can you just… not wear those tonight?"

His yellow eyes were so very wide. Alarm, I think. Or concern. Both? I couldn't process. "Zoe, you are in no state for –"

But I cut him off. "No. I just… I want your skin, against my skin. I need…" _Contact,_ my brain screamed. _I need contact. I need you to hold me and have nothing between us._

He seemed to understand what I couldn't find the words to say. "As you wish."

The sheets were cool and soothing against my bare skin. His skin was also cool against mine, also soothing, but in a completely different way.

"I almost lost you," I murmured. "I'm not ready for that."

"But you did not. I am fine."

"In the morning, you're going to tell me why you were all scorched and melty."

"Yes," he promised, his words coming as breath across my cheek. "I will."

I nestled against him, the way I always did. One of his arms wrapped around me, resting on my breast in a way that managed to not be sexual, despite our mutual nudity. It was just… just us. This was safety. Security. Home.

"Sleep," he said softly. "Sleep."

I had no intention of doing anything else.

* * *

**Notes: **This chapter begins slightly before, and ends slightly after, the episode "Disaster," which, interestingly, first premiered on 21 October 1991, almost exactly 14 years ago.

Selayan bromeliads aren't a real thing, but Selay is a planet populated by reptilian humanoids. I think they're the ones who were hunting for live food in the corridors of the _Enterprise_ in one of the early seasons, the one with the fish people, maybe? The Stardate Data references converts to March 15th, 2368. The game Zoe and her friends are playing might be a riff on _Firefly: the Board Game_ (inspired by acquiring the last expansion.)

Zoe first sees Data's android innards in chapter 48 of _Crush_. She learned about his power switch in chapter 12 of this story.

A couple of people have asked why the kids weren't tossed around the room. I decided that a) the gravity issues weren't felt throughout the ship, and since the school is likely one of the safest parts of the ship, gravity didn't cut out, and b) I didn't want to risk having Zoe injured again so soon. She's been through enough.


	20. Guidance

**_Disclaimer:_****_ Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

* * *

**Guidance**

**Stardate 45159.34**

**(Wednesday, 28 February 2368, 07:43 hours, ship's time)**

I'd only been asleep for about three hours when Data's voice came as a breath directly into my ear, waking me as gently as he could. "Zoe, I am sorry to disturb your sleep. Please wake up."

I uncurled myself from the position I'd been in, and rolled onto my back. He was leaning over me on the bed, his yellow eyes betraying concern. At least, to anyone who knew how to read them – to read _him. _"What time is it?"

"Not yet eight hundred hours. I must report to the captain, but then I will return. The doctor has relieved me of duty for the day."

"So, I'm not missing class because you're not teaching today?"

"That is correct." He refrained from pointing out that the doctor had 'relieved' _me_ of duty as well – using the definition of 'duty' that meant 'classes' - after my late-night meltdown in sickbay.

Sleepily, I asked, "Does my mother know…?"

"Dr. Crusher informed her of your whereabouts last night. I spoke with her myself thirteen point six two minutes ago." He always gave precise times whenever he was in what I thought of as 'officer mode.'

"Is she mad?"

"She was extremely understanding, and asked that I assure you that you are not 'in trouble' for breeching your agreement. As well, she wishes you to join her for dinner this evening, 'just the two of' you."

I nodded. "'kay. Thanks."

He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, dimmed the lights, and left me to drift back to sleep, though I woke up again when he came back an hour or two later. In the soft light of the bedroom – he'd left the lights set at about twenty percent in case I had a nightmare – I did what I'd been too tired, too altered, to do when we'd first come home: I watched him undress.

His upper body, I knew well, of course. His chest, his shoulders, the line of darker gold hair that ran from below his navel (I still couldn't fathom why Dr. Soong had elected to include that design feature, nor had I asked.) down culminating in a thicker nest of… oh. _Ohhhh. _

As if he knew I was watching, he turned his back to me when he bent to retrieve his trousers. Data would not be Data if he left clothing on the floor. My imagination had not let me down with regard to certain other assets, either. _Dr. Soong, you do excellent work_, I thought.

Data sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, and peeled off his socks, one at a time. "I know you are awake, Zoe," he said softly as he lifted the covers and rejoined me in the bed. I rolled onto my side, facing him.

"Do you blame me?" I asked. "You've seen all of me."

"I do not object," he said, though he continued, "Though I would have preferred this increased level of intimacy and comfort not be instigated by your emotional distress."

"Me, too," I said. I watched him lying there in the bed. "I thought you had a modesty program."

"It is a subroutine," he corrected. "And it is designed to accommodate romantic relationships."

"So, it doesn't apply to me?"

"Exactly."

I lifted my hand to ruffle his hair, and then ran my fingers down his side, past his waist and hips to rest on his thigh. It had been difficult to tell in the low light, and at the angle in which he'd been standing, but there was fine hair there, too. "Is this okay?" I asked.

"Yes, Zoe." It was satisfying to hear the tiny hitch in his voice when he answered, to know that I affected him.

I smiled at him, and flattened my hand against his skin, stroking my palm up and down. A part of me itched to take things to the next level, but that thought came with the fear that I'd have another meltdown.

I didn't want to have a flashback when we were having sex. More than that, I didn't want to see his face if I freaked out on him.

I moved my hand back to his chest, closed my eyes, and let the steady thrum of his pulse move through me. "Lift your arm," I said.

Data complied, and I rearranged myself, nestling into the crook of his arm, wrapping myself around him. "Will you rest now, Zoe?"

"Mmhmm." I kissed the part of his chest that was under my cheek, closed my eyes, and went to sleep before he'd even told the computer to reduce the lighting further.

**(=A=)**

Hours later, after I'd eaten an extremely late breakfast, I was curled into my corner of Data's couch with a mug of orange spice tea, while he explained how he'd ended up in sickbay.

"Are you certain you are up to this?" he asked.

"I'm still a little tired – emotional meltdowns are surprisingly exhausting – but I _need_ to know why you were headless – not that it wasn't a neat trick. And melty."

"The ship was struck by a cosmic filament," he explained. "I am certain you experienced jolts and power fluctuations."

I nodded. "Not a lot of jolting – we were on the school deck – but yes, the power went out."

His voice was soft and steady as he told me what had happened. "The damage to the ship included damage to many plasma conduits and power circuits. As Commander Riker and I navigated through the access tunnels to reach Engineering, there was an open circuit that was ablaze."

"A plasma fire?"

"Yes. The only way to stop the fire, to close the circuit, was to use a non-conductive substance."

"You," I breathed. "You used _you_."

"Exactly."

"And the head thing?"

"Commander Riker required my assistance with reestablishing the warp core containment field and restoring access to the ship's computer."

"Oh, of course." It came out snarkier than I meant it.

"You are upset."

"Well, yes."

"But I have been repaired. My functionality has been completely restored. If you were to examine every millimeter of my form, you would find nothing amiss."

"I have 'examined your form,'" I pointed out.

"Then, why are you still bothered?"

"I don't know. I guess… I guess it's just hitting me that being with you – being your girlfriend – means learning to cope with the fact that you face a lot of high-risk situations."

"It is normal to be in denial about such things."

"I'm not in denial, exactly. I just… I just didn't realize. I never thought."

"Risk is a part of the job," he said. "That is true of all Starfleet officers."

"I know," I said. "But it's also true that you put yourself in situations that 'all Starfleet officers' typically wouldn't." I held up a hand before he could interject. "I'm not asking you to change your job for me. For one thing, we haven't been together long enough for me to have the right to ask. And for another… it's a big part of who you are."

"Your assessment is not incorrect. But that does not help you."

I gave him a rueful smile. "No, it doesn't. But sitting here, talking about what you were doing and what happened – that _does _help." I drained my mug and set it aside, then moved into the curve of his arm. "_This_ helps also," I said, and stretched up to kiss him.

Neither of us said it, but I'm pretty sure we were both thinking about the missions he wouldn't be able to tell me about, the ones that required security clearance and significant rank.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45168.16**

**(Saturday, 2 March 2368, 13:09 hours, ship's time)**

I finished playing the last legato section of the Debussy solo I'd decided to include in my audition recording, and lifted my bow from the strings of my cello. "Well?" I asked looking at both the man in the room with me, and the man on the video screen.

Data opened his mouth, most likely to give a technical analysis of my playing, but he seemed to change tack even before he spoke a word. Addressing the remote viewer, he said, "I believe I will defer to your father."

"Dad?"

From the viewer, my father's 'critique face' softened into a steady, glowing, smile. _"Zoetrope, if I hadn't seen you playing, I'd have thought I was listening to a professional recording. I'd ask what had given you the awareness for such a sophisticated interpretation of _La Fille aux Ceveux de Lin_, but I suspect I know." _

I averted my eyes for a moment, confirming his assumption. "I guess a lot of my interpretations have gotten a lot darker lately," I said, looking up again. "I'm pretty sure I'll eventually find the light again. Things get a little better every day."

_"Are you sleeping through the night yet?"_ he asked.

"Some nights," I evaded.

I wasn't really in the mood to share that the only night I'd been nightmare-free since my time with Data's brother had been three nights before, when I'd been both physically and emotionally exhausted, and had crashed in Data's bed – in Data's arms – after skinning off my clothes, and demanding he match my nudity. It hadn't been sexual; I'd just been desperate for skin-to-skin contact, and my amazing boyfriend had taken it all in stride, providing me with the anchor – and the safe harbor – I'd needed at that moment.

Still, I didn't think my father needed that level of detail.

_"Data, you're not keeping her out too late, are you?"_ Like me, my father tended to use humor as a defense mechanism. His teasing was probably a cover for his real concerns.

"I am endeavoring not to, sir," Data answered as calmly as ever. "I believe Zoe's return to music will be beneficial."

_"I suspect you're right. Alright, daughter-of-mine, what's your second personal selection? Not _Le Cygne_?" Le Cygne – _The Swan – was the most cliché cello solo ever. Everyone recorded it at some point in their career, but using it at an audition was like using the songs from whatever show was hottest on Broadway when trying out for a musical.

"No," I said. "Actually, Data hasn't even heard me play this one yet. Since I'm not allowed to go back to class yet," I made a face at the android. It was, after all, his input that was part of _why_ I wasn't back in class. "I had nothing else to do yesterday but practice."

I started the next piece, the one I'd spent all day on. My father, I knew, would recognize the tune. I wasn't sure if Data would, but when I'd found it in the music library, I'd known immediately that I wanted to play it for him.

The piece was more contemporary than the Debussy, a slow, sensual, jazz-infused tango, the kind that always made me envision lovers in a club in someplace like Havana, on Earth, or somewhere on Caprica or Risa. My bow and my fingers danced with the strings, as I poured everything I felt for Data into my performance. True, my father was watching and listening, but he was a performer, too. He'd get it.

I finished the piece, adding a final pizzicato flourish that resonated throughout the room, then sat back and waited.

Data was watching me with more focus than I was typically aware of him using, and my father…my father was teary-eyed.

_"If you play like that on your recording, they'll all be blown away_," Dad said. _"Now, I want you to take the rest of the weekend off, get some rest, if you can, and then make the final recording on Wednesday or Thursday. You'll want to send it in with a few days before the deadline."_

I grinned at my father's image on the screen. "Thanks, Dad. I'll send you a copy, if you like."

_"I insist on it. Darling, I need to sign off now. We'll talk tomorrow evening, yes?" _

"Sure, Dad. Hug Gia and Zeke for me?"

_"I will do."_ He said goodbye to Data, as well, and then cut the connection.

Data and I were both silent for a full minute after the call ended. Finally, he spoke to me, but he didn't say anything about the piece I'd played. Instead he asked, "Would you like another dance lesson this afternoon?"

"With you? Always." I put away my cello and went to wash my hands, pull my hair into a pony-tail and change into the high-heeled shoes I'd begun wearing at those lessons.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45196.32**

**(Tuesday, 12 March 2368, 20:33 hours, ship's time)**

The ship's gymnasium was eerily empty at 8:30 on a Tuesday evening. Maybe I'd arrived between peak times, or maybe Starfleet conditioned all of its officers to be morning exercisers, but all my friends were either busy (Josh and Dana, Rryl and Serena were on a double date) or off-ship (Annette was at an incoming student mixer for her university), and Data was at his poker game, and I was feeling the need to blow off some steam.

"It's okay that I'm here, isn't it?" I asked the duty ensign at the desk. Use of the gym equipment was tracked and added to one's medical file, partly to ensure that officers and crew were getting requisite exercise, and partly to track errors and injuries. If a bunch of people started pulling muscles on a weight machine, for example, that meant either that a group of people hadn't been trained in correct use, or the machine was out of calibration. "I mean, it's so quiet."

The ensign shook his head. "Unless we're on lockdown or there's some other emergency, we're open all the time. It's just a slow period. Thursdays. Thursdays we're packed. Everyone trying to get required physical activity in before the weekend."

I grinned at that, "I can just imagine. Well, I'm headed for the Pilates studio, if that's cool?"

"It is," he said grinning, "completely 'cool.'" Then he cocked his head at me. "You've used the studio before, right? I've seen you in here, but I don't remember your name."

"It's Zoe," I said. "And yes, I've used it before. Thank you."

"I'm Garcia," he said as I turned away. "Jose Garcia. Yell if you need anything." He flashed me the sort of grin that probably charmed the pants off the other ensigns. Literally. "Or, you know, if you just want company."

"Sure," I said. "If I need anything." I was fairly certain there was nothing I needed that he could provide.

I left the desk, and made my through the main part of the gym to the smaller rooms at the back, the rooms that were typically used for yoga and martial arts classes, handball, racquetball, and things like that. Just opposite the entrance to the Pilates studio, I noticed that one of the rooms had an open door. When I looked in, curious to see what sport or exercise was going on, I saw a black cylinder of some kind of thick material suspended from the ceiling.

I'd seen enough ancient videos to recognize a punching bag; it had just never occurred to me that anyone would be using one on the _Enterprise_. Most people would just run a program on the holodeck.

Someone had left a towel and a water bottle on the bench, along with a pair of gloves, but no one was actually inside, and I couldn't resist. I'd been wanting something to punch for weeks, and the universe had apparently decided to meet my needs.

I walked into the room, balled my right hand into a fist, and took an experimental swing at the bag.

I hadn't expected it to be that heavy. Punching it was like hitting a wall – a wall with a little bit of 'give' – but, still a wall.

I flexed my fingers, and smiled.

Then I punched it again.

In the videos I'd seen, the plucky young boxer always had a gruff older coach who held the bag steady and gave pointers about how to jab or hook or…whatever. I was barely making the suspension mechanism tremble; I was pretty sure a gruff coach wouldn't be able to help with that.

I kept punching, alternating which fist I was using. I wasn't dancing around the bag, or bouncing on my toes. It was more like I was whaling on a nearly inert, roughly body-shaped thing.

In my head the black punching bag was Lore, only it was a version of him that I could hit. I imagined his face, his smug, leering expression just before he'd ripped my clothes. I imagined what it would look like if his nose was dented by my fist. I raised my right hand again intending to punch with all my strength.

"Do that, and you'll break your fingers, and hurt your wrist again," came a voice that managed to be both gruff and gentle at once. A male hand captured my wrist as its owner moved to stand in front of me. "There's a reason boxers wear gloves, Zoe."

"Captain Picard?"

"It's customary to ask before you take over a reserved training room," he pointed out, not unkindly. He released my wrist. "I wouldn't have taken you for a boxer."

"I'm not," I said. "I just… the door was open, and I saw the bag, and I just wanted to hit something. I've been wanting to hit something since…" I trailed off. I was pretty certain he really didn't want to know any of what I was babbling.

"Since Lore hurt you?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," I said. "I mean, yes, sir."

He gave me a look I couldn't interpret, but seemed like part sympathy and part understanding. "Well, if you're going to be punching things, it's probably best if you learn to do so without harming yourself." He pressed a button on the wall console. "Computer, one pair of bag gloves, size small." A second pair of gloves shimmered into existence on the bench, and he picked them up and turned back to me. "Hold out your hands."

I slid first one hand and then the other into a waiting glove, and watched as they self-adjusted, tightening around my wrists. "No offense, Captain," I said, "but I wouldn't have taken _you_ for a boxer either. Everything I've read about you depicts you as an intellectual and a diplomat."

"Your father is a celebrity, of sorts, Zoe. Is everything the press says about him accurate?"

"Well, no…"

"Remember that."

I had the decency to look chagrinned.

"Now then," he said. "Let's start with the basics. Have you ever read any Arthurian legend? Or been to a Renaissance faire and seen jousting?"

I couldn't figure out how the Matter of Britain or Renn faire games had anything to do with boxing, but I told him what I'd read. I omitted the fact that I preferred cheesy musicals and ancient Monty Python sketches over the source material.

"Are you right- or left-handed?"

"Right."

"Alright, then. Your right hand is your striking hand. Your sword. Your first punch is always going to be with your right fist. Your left hand is your protective hand, your shield. Its main role is to block any swings at your face."

"Okay, but, I'm pretty sure Mr. Hefty over here isn't going to be swinging anywhere near my face."

"Mr. Hefty?"

I shrugged. "It's a brand of trash bags, and that thing's kind of heavy. It seemed appropriate." If he'd been anyone else, I'd have quoted the brand's advertisement about having been a successful part of domestic engineering since 1926.

"Fair point," he said drily. Something in his eyes made me think he would have laughed at my name for the punching bag if _I'd_ been anyone else. "In any case, in order to punch with any kind of force, you must use your entire body."

"Wasn't I?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Face the bag, and plant your feet." He demonstrated the way he wanted me to stand, and I followed suit.

"Good. Now, when you strike the bag again, bend at the knee, rotate from your waist, and use your momentum to power your punch." Again he demonstrated, albeit in slow motion.

I took a practice swing, imitating his movements, and I could feel how much more power there was in my arm.

"Excellent. Now again, with your off hand."

I repeated the action, punching with my left hand."

"Now, at speed."

I punched Mr. Hefty, and was gratified to see him swing. It wasn't much of an arc, but I'd made the thing move.

"Continue."

I did. Actually, I punched the bag a bunch of times, but the captain kept stopping me, adjusting the angle of my hands, making me change how far apart my feet were spread, suggesting a different way to move my arms.

Finally, he was satisfied enough to let me go to town on Hefty. Right fist, left fist. I found a rhythm, and as I swung my fists, I started seeing the punching bag as Lore again. Anger and pain welled up inside me. All I could feel was the need to hit something, to _hurt_ something. I swung faster, punched harder.

"You bastard! You goddamned fucking _bastard!_" I'd fallen into blind rage and I didn't even realize I was screaming and crying until I felt my knees impact the floor.

"Zoe, it's alright. Lore isn't here."

Sweat and tears were stinging my eyes, and I was panting hard, but Picard's voice brought me back, and suddenly I was mortified about having a violent meltdown in front of Captain Jean-Luc Picard, hero of the Federation. "Oh, god," I said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." And then, because I truly had no filter, I asked, "How did you know?"

He extended a hand, which I took, and helped me to my feet. "I cannot pretend I know what it is like to be raped," he said, in a moment of candor that I would later learn was uncharacteristic. He rarely opened up to his own counselor, let alone relative strangers, or so I would be told. "But I do know what it is to be violated, and I understand all too well the need to lash out with physical force. I assume Counselor Troi is aware of your…violent tendencies?" He said the last part with just a hint of humor.

"Yes, sir. She suggested I try some kind of martial arts."

"And have you?" He gestured for me to extend my hands, and he removed the boxing gloves as we talked.

"Nothing seemed appealing. It was all too… controlled."

"Hmph." I can't pretend to know what he was thinking. He was staring at me, as if taking my measure. "Give yourself time, Zoe. It won't go away, but in time it _will_ fade."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me, sir. And honestly, I am doing… better."

"I'm gratified to hear it. Go home, Zoe. Shower here, or shower in your quarters – I'd recommend a combination of sonics and hot water – drink some water or tea, and get some sleep. You've had quite a workout. Ah, Mr. Data, have you come to see Ms. Harris home?"

"Yes, sir, if she is ready."

The android's voice came from behind me and I whirled to face him. "Your game's over already?"

"It is seven minutes after midnight," he explained.

I turned back to the captain. "I didn't mean to take over your whole evening."

"I rather thought I took over yours," he said in the same dry tone I would eventually recognize as his own version of snark. "Dismissed," he added, but he said with a smile in his voice.

"G'night, Captain, and…thank you."

"Good night, sir," Data said, and he guided me back through the gym and out the doors.

"You didn't have to come get me," I said.

"Ending the evening with you has become a habit, Zoe, even a ritual. One I look forward to."

"I like it better when the evening doesn't have to end," I responded as we stepped into the turbo-lift.

"As do I," he agreed. "You seem overly tired. Perhaps it would be best if I escort you directly home and we forego tea tonight."

"You heard the captain. I've had 'quite a workout.' A hot shower and sleep are about all I can handle tonight. I'm sorry."

"Do not be. I am glad that you have found an outlet for your anger."

"How much did you see?"

"Nothing of what you were doing. I could only infer from the equipment in the room. I am curious, though. What made you seek out Captain Picard?"

"I didn't. I was going to do Pilates and he wasn't in the room, and the door was open, and I saw the punching bag and… it kind of just happened."

"Ah."

"He was pretty cool about it."

"That is 'good to know.'"

I grinned. "I suppose it is."

We arrived at my mother's quarters, and Data walked me inside. A flashing message indicator informed me that she was spending the night with Ed in his quarters. "If you wish me to stay…" he began, but I interrupted.

"I always wish for that," I said softly, echoing the spirit of the words I'd said to him at my father's house on Centaurus. "But I also recognize that you won't always be around, and it's not fair for me to expect you to be. So, how about you make tea while I take a fast shower, and you can stay while I drink it and kiss me goodnight before you go?"

"I accept your suggestion," he said, "with the understanding that if you do have a nightmare, you will contact me."

I stood on tiptoe to kiss him. "I can live with that. Tarragon mint, please?" And I went to let ten minutes under sonics and hot water work wonders on tired muscles.

It might have been the tea, or perhaps it was the knowledge that Data would come if I needed him, but I slept soundly that night.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45209.98**

**(Sunday, 17 March 2368, 20:31 hours, ship's time) **

"Okay, Zoe, I was only away for a week, and now you're _living _with Data?" Annette teased me as she entered my boyfriend's quarters. Data had suggested I meet with my friend for our study session in his space, just before he'd left for the bridge. Several different groups of scientists were squabbling over some piece of equipment, and he and Geordi were still working to solve that dilemma.

"Hardly," I snorted. "Well, only on weekends. Nights like tonight, when he's on duty, I just hang out here and practice or do homework, and spend time with Spot."

"And when he's _off _duty?"

I laughed. "Pretty much the same, except he's here, and we alternate between talking and working in companionable silence. What did you think? That we're going at it like rabbits all the time?" I was teasing her.

Annette's face showed me that my jest hadn't been far off, but her question was asked in a neutral tone: "You're not?"

I took a seat at Data's dining table, the place where I typically worked on homework, and gestured for my friend to join me. "Truth?" I asked, and when she nodded, I continued. "We share his bed when I'm here – he holds me while I sleep – he's the one that stops my nightmares. We kiss, and we touch, and we cuddle – and the night before I went to Melona we came close to… I mean we were about to have sex and then he got paged… and then… and then everything happened with Lore, and it feels like forever, but it's really only been a few months since we've been a couple, and just over a month since… since I was raped… and…"

"And it's not time yet," my friend said softly, "is it?"

"Not yet, no. I mean, I _want_ him, and it's not like he's pushing – that will never happen, I'm just terrified I'll have a flashback in the middle and he'll take it personally and - is it weird that I'm talking to you about this?"

Annette shook her head. "Not at all, but if we're going to have deep conversation instead of doing homework, we need sustenance."

"Coffee and cheesecake?"

"Sounds like a plan."

By the time our mugs had been drained and our plates were empty, we'd shifted from my love-life to hers. Wesley Crusher had arrived for a visit earlier that morning, and one of the first things on his agenda had been ending things with my friend.

"I knew it was coming," Annette said. "We've been growing apart for months, after all."

"I wish I knew what to say," I told her. "I mean, long distance is hard, and I know you've been less-than-happy about things since Christmas, but… I don't know… you two seemed so perfect for each other."

"Apparently not," she said drily. "Apparently the person who's perfect for Wes is _Robin Lefler_." The tone in which she uttered the other woman's name made it perfectly clear what she was thinking and feeling. "Did you _see_ them in Ten-Forward?"

"I did," I said. "He could have waited a day, at least. I mean, I know things always move at warp speed on starships, but going out with someone else mere _hours_ after you two officially ended things? Tacky in the extreme."

"You know what's truly unfair?" Annette asked me. responded with an encouraging expression, pretty sure she was going to tell me no matter what I said. "_I_ was actually going to end things with _him_, but I never got the chance."

I reached across the table and squeezed my friend's hand. "I know," I said. She'd been thinking about it for months, and we'd been discussing it on and off for weeks. "What's done is done, though. So, you have two choices: you can wallow in the dregs of a relationship that hasn't been working for a while."

"That's one option," Annette agreed.

"The other option is that we can both be adults about this, and focus on math homework for the next couple of hours, after which a hot ensign I know will be waiting to escort you home."

"Oh?" A small smile began in the corners of her mouth. "Ray Barnett?" she asked with a note of hope in her voice.

"None other."

"So, math," she said.

"Math," I agreed.

"One thing," Annette said. "Have you noticed a lot of people playing some weird game?"

"The headset thing with the optical interface? When Data and I were at dinner last night, I saw at least five people playing it."

"There were two people playing while they were in the turbo-lift with me," she said. "I felt like I'd walked into someone's bedroom."

"Yuck," I said. "It is all kinds of weird how many people are playing it though."

"You could ask your boyfriend," she said.

"If it's important, he'll tell me. I try really hard not to ask questions about his work."

"Really? Why?"

"Data doesn't like to lie. Most people think he _can't_, but that's not quite true. He's a line officer, a bridge officer. There are times when he can't tell me what's going on, and I try to minimize the number of times that happens."

"I never thought about how much you have to figure out," my friend mused. "Is it worth it?"

I didn't hesitate. "Yes," I told her. "It's worth it."

"Even without sex?"

I shrugged. "We'll get there eventually. In the meantime…" I let my words trail off into the slow smile that spread across my face.

"Alright, my love-struck friend," Annette teased. "Let's get back to work."

We worked until midnight, and then Annette left and I cuddled Spot for a few minutes before I headed back home, as well. I wasn't sure why – Data wasn't in the habit of checking in with me when he was on the bridge – but I couldn't help feel that something was wrong on the ship.

That feeling was only cemented when I noticed one of those game sets on the table in Mom's quarters.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45211.43**

**(Monday, 18 March 2368, 09:16 hours, ship's time)**

The corridors were eerily empty for just after nine in the morning. Or at least eerily quiet. I was en route to sickbay to see if I could get something for the cramps I'd woken up with, and the few people I saw all seemed to be playing the same game Annette and I had talked about the night before.

It didn't really seem like the kind of game that should be played in public. I'd heard random people asking about levels and how long it had taken and things like that, but almost everyone I ran into gave the impression that they were walking around in some kind of post-coital ecstasy.

"Zoe, shouldn't you be in class?" I looked into the face of one of the med techs whose name I couldn't remember. He, too, was sporting one of the headsets that had been appearing everywhere.

"Not until ten," I said. "Is Dr. Crusher around, or Nurse Ogawa?"

"I think the Doc's in her office," he said. "Alyssa's not in yet… probably trying to level up. Are you playing? You should. It's… fantastic."

"I'm not," I said. "Think the doctor would mind if I poked my head in?"

"She knows you; go ahead." He grinned a happy, stupid kind of grin. "Ask for a game set. It'll cure what ails you."

"Yeah," I said, moving away from him and toward the doctor's office. "I'll do that." I weaved between bio beds and other medical equipment and paused outside for a moment before I knocked on the frame of her open door.

"Zoe!" The doctor's voice was bright and welcoming, but her eyes looked a little unfocused. I wondered if she had a game set stashed in one of her drawers. "How are you? No more nightmares, I hope?"

"This person has gone 17 nights without a bad dream," I said, riffing on the safety signs posted in each of the ship's cargo bays. Ordinarily, she'd have laughed at that. Instead she offered a taut smile. "Well, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I come seeking help. I woke up with really bad cramps and when I did the math, I realized we'd missed my last birth control shot. I mean… not that it's strictly necessary, considering, but… I don't know… it's nice not having to worry about…"

"I completely understand," she said. "I'm not sure how we missed your dose." She seemed slightly scattered. Or maybe she was preoccupied. Either way, the usual focused professional was not the same person who was looking out from behind the doctor's eyes.

"I sort of assumed you didn't want me having to deal with yet another sickbay thing…" I hedged.

"Yes, that's right," she said. "Well, why don't we put you in one of the privacy bays, and see if we can't make you feel better." She rose from her chair, pausing to reach into a bin to the right of her desk. I saw a game set in her hand, but I didn't comment on it, though I was more than a little surprised when she took me by the arm and led me to the bed in the alcove furthest from the main doors. "I need to prepare your hypo-spray," she said. "Hop up on the bed and I'll be right back."

I did as she asked, but instead of walking away to prepare the shot, as she'd said, Dr. Crusher leaned over me and put the headband for the game over my head. "You will _love_ this," she said. "Trust me."

Less than five minutes later, I understood why everyone was walking around as if they were in sexual bliss all the time. That game was _amazing_.

**(=A=)**

I don't know how long I sat on the bio-bed playing the game. I vaguely remember reaching level thirty-one, but the levels were vague anyway. Most of the time, it was as if the game played itself.

I was still playing when I heard a voice that sounded like Data's. I looked up, and saw him talking with the doctor, but he was focused on the conversation, and I was in an alcove.

"I'm working on a new experiment with bio-active silicon," I heard Dr. Crusher tell him, before asking him to reprogram a medical tricorder.

"Certainly," he said, taking the device from her. I craned my neck, but couldn't focus on his fingers, and the game blinking at me, encouraging me to take it out of standby mode.

I heard the doctor apologize for asking Data to spend time on such a task and heard him assure her that he was happy to help. I could hear his inflection shift into his questioning tone, likely to ask her for details about her experiment.

He never got the chance, because Dr. Crusher put her hand to his back and deactivated him.

The sight of the man I loved falling forward over the diagnostic bed jarred me out of any thoughts of playing the game, but something told me not to move. I took the headset off just long enough to bend the eye pieces so they wouldn't actually meet my gaze, and then I put it back on, and relaxed against the deactivated display panel of my bed.

It was at least an hour before Dr. Crusher left sick bay, chatting with Counselor Troi and Commander Riker – I hadn't noticed them arrive, but they were definitely with her when she left, because she'd explained exactly what she'd done to my boyfriend. I wondered what else was going on, that they would so casually injure a man who was their friend and colleague.

I wanted to run to Data and see if he was okay, but I really had no idea what to do to help him. Feeling utterly useless, I chose to simply wait and watch over him. If the entire senior staff was involved, there was no one I could turn to, anyway.

I don't know if I fell asleep, or just zoned out, but the next thing I knew, another familiar voice was filling the space. I leaned out of my alcove and saw Wesley Crusher talking to some girl – the infamous Robin Lefler – about what happened to Data.

I put my headset back on, making sure I really wasn't making eye contact. While I pretended to play, I listened to Wes and Robin, as they were discussing who had deactivated Data, and where, and how. I was about to scream at them to look just below his positronic cortex when they figured it out, and made the requisite repairs.

"How do we wake him up?" Robin asked.

Wes hesitated. "He has a power switch somewhere," he said. "I'm not sure I remember where…"

I pulled off the headset and slid off the bio-bed. "I think I can help with that," I said as I crossed the room. "Hey, Wes. Sorry we haven't had a chance to hang out."

"Zoe? But you were playing the game…"

I shook my head, "No, you only thought I was. Well, actually I _had _been playing it until I saw your mother deactivate Data."

"The game is psychotropic," Robin said. "The shock of someone you trust doing that to a colleague must have broken you out of thrall."

"Something like that," I said vaguely.

"What made you decide to keep acting like you were playing?" Wes demanded, as if he were testing me.

"Oh, please. I'm dating the second officer. You think I haven't figured out when there's something really wrong happening on the _Enterprise_?"

"_Everyone_ is addicted to that game," Wes said. "Everyone. Wait… you're _dating_ Data? When did that start?"

"A few months ago. Could you both turn around, please?"

"Zoe?"

"If you had a power switch, would you want the whole ship knowing where it was?"

"Good point," Robin said. "That would make a good law."

"What?"

"A law," she said, and went on to explain about her personal collection of laws.

I slid my hand under Data's uniform jacket, partly because it was easier to find the switch with less fabric in the way, and partly because, even though they weren't actually watching, I wanted both of them to know I was _familiar_ with the android officer. It was stupid, and petty, but at the same time, it felt kind of good.

I hesitated before I actually pressed the button. The last time I'd done this, I'd ended up in a mind loop and a flashback. I took a deep breath, calming myself, and applied pressure.

"Doctor?" Data asked. He was still lying mostly on his stomach, his face toward the floor. He immediately rolled to his back and then sat up.

"She deactivated you," I said. "And severed some of your crucial connections. Wes and Robin made the repairs."

"And Zoe reactivated you," Robin said.

"Thank you Wesley," Data said, "And Ensign Lefler." He turned toward me and said. "Zoe, I am very glad you were here."

"Me, too," I said.

"Data, the game that everyone's playing is addictive and I think there's something else going on," Wes brought us all back to the urgent situation at hand.

"I agree. Please update me."

I drifted away as Data, Wes, and Robin formulated a plan. The cadet and ensign left, and Data immediately went to work on his part of their task.

"I should go," I said. "I've lost a whole day in here, and you have to save the ship." I said the last part in a slightly teasing tone, but I knew it was a deadly serious situation.

"Please do not," Data said.

"Data?"

"I will need to test this device on someone who has played the game."

"Oh."

"You will need to begin playing now."

"Oh." I don't know what I'd been expecting, but it made sense. I repaired the headset I'd bent, sat on the diagnostic bed, and played the game. It picked up where I'd left off, and I must have played about ten more levels before there was light flickering in my eyes, and I was clear-headed again.

"How do you feel?" Data asked.

"Normal," I said, smiling. "_You_ are a miracle-worker."

"No, Zoe, I am not." But there was a hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth, anyway. "You must make your way to my quarters, now," he said. "I will either come home, or contact you. Either way, do not leave unless I have told you it is safe to do so."

"I promise," I said. Impulsively, I hugged and kissed him before I bolted from sickbay.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45226.56**

**(Saturday, 23 March 2368, 22:07 hours, ship's time)**

Five days later, Wes had returned to Earth and Starfleet Academy, Ensign Lefler and I had gotten to know each other a little, Annette and Ray had gone on their first date.

Data and I had finished dinner in Ten-Forward and were on our way for another dance lesson, but he was being evasive about what dance he had planned to teach me. We entered the holodeck as we always did, but the program running wasn't our usual dance studio. Instead, we were in the kind of club when I'd envisioned when playing the Piazzolla tango for him weeks before.

"Data? What is this?"

"For the dance we will be experimenting with today, I believe a more intimate venue is called for."

"This is lovely," I said. "But it feels like a special occasion. Not one of our usual dance lessons."

"I had originally intended today's dance to be the culmination of our lessons, but recent events led me to the conclusion that it would be an appropriate choice for today. You may find the music selection… somewhat ironic. Computer, begin program DZ-Tango1."

The music that wafted through the softly lit, unpopulated club was the full-band version of my tango, rather than the transcription for cello. "_Oblivion_," I said, smiling. "How long have you this planned?"

"As it did for you, the Piazzolla tango evoked my memories of us. The club and the music were originally intended to be a Valentine's Day celebration…"

"But Valentine's Day got kyboshed in more ways than one."

"Indeed."

"So, how do we start? I don't have to stick a rose in my mouth, do I?" I was teasing him, but only a little. I was also really glad I'd worn a skirt. He hadn't mentioned dancing in his initial dinner suggestion.

"No, Zoe, you do not." Data turned toward me, his body language shifting from officer-correct to a softer 'dancer' stance, and I was struck, not for the first time, by the way his strength seemed so be both compact and tensile, especially dressed as he was then, in a soft blue waffle-weave Henley shirt that was almost as close-fitting as the t-shirt he typically wore as part of his uniform. I had a sudden urge to see him in jeans, finding the image in my head a lot less out-of-character than I'd thought when I'd guided him toward khakis months before on Centaurus.

_Lore wore jeans_, the thought flashed through my head, and I squeezed my eyes closed, forcing it away. A couple of seconds later, I met my partner's eyes.

"The tango is a dance that involves close – even intimate – contact. If you become uncomfortable, please tell me."

He had, I realized with a start, chosen that shirt specifically because it was the furthest thing he owned from anything I'd ever seen Lore wear. The soft material, the light color, the change of setting - we were about to do a dance that had become synonymous with sex – and Data was doing everything possible to put me at ease.

"Data, I'm never uncomfortable with _you_." I said, but it wasn't precisely true. Pressing his power-switch had caused a flashback less than a month before, after all. "Or at least, nothing you _do_ makes me uncomfortable."

He chose not to refute that, instead informing me, "The opening form of the tango is called _abraza_ – embrace. Typically the dancers begin with the leader holding the follower against his chest, either back to front –" and he guided me into the position he'd painted us in – my back against his chest, his right arm wrapped loosely around my rib cage, his left hand lightly gripping my left bicep "- or facing one another."

I let him guide me through the basic steps with soft words and subtle pressure. Two dancers, one axis, fully-clothed bodies touching, then moving slightly apart, following the rhythm of the music.

My tango segued into another that I could tell was from the same composer. It wasn't quite as 'soft' a piece, and Data stopped counting, trusting me to follow where he led. He varied the steps, making them more intricate. Our feet crossed. Our legs twined and came apart. He nudged me into a turn within the frame of his arms.

When the second piece ended, I was breathless. "I need a break," I said. "And some water."

"Do you wish to continue dancing, afterward?"

What I _wished_ was to go back to his quarters and do a more horizontal kind of dance, but at the same time, I was still afraid that I would freak out if we tried. The advantage of an android partner was that he would never pressure me.

The disadvantage was that it was up to me to take the lead. Data wouldn't. I was pretty sure he _couldn't._ Before I could even think about sex, though, I needed to ask him my big question.

"Zoe?"

I blinked. My musing had taken longer than I'd realized. "Sorry, Data, I was…thinking. I do wish to dance more before we go home, but right now, can we sit?"

He nodded, and we moved to one of the tables, sitting in opposite bentwood chairs. A holographic server appeared, brought my requested water with lemon, and then disappeared into the shadows of cyberspace until he was needed again.

"Have I done something wrong?"

I blinked at him, and felt a stab of pain on his behalf, that he would immediately go to that question. "No. You've done – you're _doing_ – everything right. You ask before you touch me, you've avoided wearing solid black when we're alone and you're out of uniform. You've given up whole nights of work or personal time just to hold me while I try to sleep, the last couple of weekends. That _has_ to be boring as hell for you."

"No, it is not."

"If the only reason why not is because you don't experience boredom…"

Data cut me off. "It is not. The time spent in bed with you is not wasted; I am often analyzing information, sorting files, considering any number of personal projects. As well, I find I prefer to spend as much of our time together _with _you as I can. I have even been experimenting with sleep."

"You can sleep?"

"I do not _require_ sleep, but yes, I have a function somewhat analogous to sleep."

"Do you dream? Wait, is it rude that I'm asking these things?"

"No, I do not dream." He tilted his head at me, "And no, it is not rude. You are not asking simply 'to ask.'"

I shook my head, "No, I'm not. I'm asking because every day we spend together only shows me something else I don't know about you. But right now, I want to ask something a little awkward."

"Of course, Zoe, You may ask me anything."

I sipped some of my water, and then I spoke slowly and carefully. "In the last thirty days, I've seen you injured and deactivated twice. The first time, you had people ready to help. The second time, I was alone in the room. If Wes and Robin hadn't shown up… "

"What is it you wish to ask, Zoe?"

"I would like to have a better understanding of how you… function. I'm never going to be any kind of computer expert or cyberneticist, but the book I _do_ need doesn't exist. No one's written a guide to the Care and Feeding of Devastatingly Handsome Androids." The humor was for my benefit more than his.

Data's voice was soft and serious when he answered me. "I will always endeavor to answer your questions, Zoe, as they occur to you. I would offer my technical specifications but I do not believe they would give you the data you are seeking."

I laughed, "I've already got the Data I'm seeking, don't I?"

He blinked at me, as if surprised I would make such an obvious pun. "Indubitably," he assured me. "I will… see what I can do."

I reached across the table to cover his hands with mind. "I have more."

"Continue," he encouraged.

I nodded. "This dance. Being so close to you. It's… it makes me… it felt a little like foreplay. And I don't want you to think I've lost interest. I just… I'm scared. I don't want to melt down while we're in the middle of anything intimate. I think I may need more time. But eventually I'm going to be ready again. When that happens… do I have to be explicit, or are subtle non-verbal cues enough with you? I mean, you didn't initiate a _kiss_ until after I had, and until we'd talked a lot. I guess… just like whether or not you sleep or dream, and how your systems operate… I need to know how you… work."

Data's answer was given in a tone that managed to be both muted and intense at once. He freed one of his hands and captured a lock of my hair, twisting it between his fingers and then letting it go, as he spoke. "I have held you while you slept, felt your responses to my touch, watched you preparing for the beginning of the day, and the end, and exchanged many kisses with you. I am certain that when you are truly ready for the next shift in our relationship, I will know without explicit statements."

Mere weeks before, that candor from him would have made me blush. Instead, it gave me a sort of thrill deep in the center of my body. I drank some more of my water, and then I set the glass back on the table and rose to my feet. "There's a move in tango where the one partner hooks their leg over the others and is dipped backwards. I think we need to try it."

Data's eyebrows rose slightly toward his hairline, but he stood up as well, instructed the computer to play another song, and guided me into a face-to-face opening _abraza_. His hands slid over my body; my hands slid over his; we stepped and turned to the rhythm of the accordions, strings, and piano. "Turn," he whispered softly. "Lift." I did as he asked, resting my leg over his. "Relax into a backwards layout."

When we'd accomplished the move once, and I was vertical again, I smiled at him. "Again."

The second time Data dipped me, he echoed the movement, bending forward over me. I had a second of panic – Lore's looming image flashed through my brain – but the music and the soft expression on my partner's face made the panic dissipate almost instantly. He was holding me securely, balancing both of us, and looking at him, I couldn't help it. It only took the slightest movement of my head to meet his mouth with mine.

Dancing with Data was lovely, but it was kissing him that I could never get enough of.

* * *

**Notes: **Spans the episode "The Game." Zoe's cello pieces are Debussy's _La Fille aux Cheveux de Lin _(English: _The Girl with the Flaxen Hair_) and _Oblivion_ by Astor Piazzolla. Both of these, as well as the _Libertango, _also by Piazzolla, are in the "Crushing on Cello" YouTube playlist. I have no idea if it's canon for Captain Picard to box, but I know that Patrick Stewart used to, and it seemed like something he might do when no one was around. He's pretty buff, after all. If you're keeping track of dates, you might be wondering why March 2nd is a Saturday. 2368 is a leap year, which gives February 29 days. Do they still do the leap year thing on 24th-century Earth? I say, yes, because it's entrenched into Terran tradition, and the people who were vocally against the practice probably didn't bother to vote. Two lines of dialogue (or two partial lines) were lifted from "The Game."


	21. Grave

**_Disclaimer:_****_ Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

**_Warning_****_: This chapter is rated M for 'adult content' including language and a somewhat steamy scene near the middle. _**

* * *

**Grave**

_**Grave (adj): **_having a serious and dignified quality or demeanor, low-pitched in sound.

**Stardate 45233.64**

**(Tuesday, 26 March 2368, 12:22 hours, ship's time) **

"Do you still want to hit things?" Counselor Troi asked me. We were sitting in her office, and I was sipping cinnamon spice tea while she was indulging in hot chocolate. We'd only been talking for twenty or so minutes.

"I've _been _hitting things," I said.

"Oh? The only holodeck time I've seen under your ID is when you and your friends were playing pirates the other day."

Sunday afternoon, Josh had decided that we all needed some silly fun, and even though it meant cutting my weekend with Data short by a few hours, I'd ultimately agreed. We'd even managed to convince the computer that you actually _could _slide down a sail using a cutlass. At least, in a simulation.

"I've been dancing with Data as well," I protested, good-naturedly. "But actually, the hitting-things has been real." At her alarmed expression I quickly added. "In the gym. A punching bag."

"You've taken up boxing?" She seemed surprised. And amused. I suppose I would have been as well.

"Two weeks ago, I was in the gym on my way to the Pilates studio and there was a punching bag in one of the rooms. No one seemed to be using it, so I went in and started hitting it – it was oddly satisfying – and in the middle the –" I hesitated. I wasn't sure if Captain Picard had told her he'd been boxing with me, and I didn't want to 'out' him if he hadn't. I kind of liked that I had this little secret. "- the person who had reserved the room arrived, and stopped me before I could hurt myself. Then he got me some gloves and gave me some pointers. I kind of had a meltdown at the end, but he was surprisingly supportive."

"Is he anyone I know?" she asked.

"Don't you know pretty much everyone on the ship?" I countered, evading her question.

"You don't want to tell me?" She was definitely amused that time.

"I… not really." I admitted. "But I will say that Data knows who he is, and approves."

The counselor stared at me for several seconds. "Alright," she said, smiling. "I'm just glad you've found an outlet. How are things, otherwise?"

My good mood deflated a bit. "Okay, I guess. I mean… I'm back in school full-time, and I haven't had a nightmare in a week, but I still get jumpy if I walk into a dark room, and while I haven't had another full-blown meltdown like the one in sickbay a couple weeks ago – you know when I mean?" The counselor hadn't actually been present when pressing Data's power-switch had made me flash back.

"Beverly told me, yes," she confirmed.

"But there's little things… Data and I were dancing and I panicked for a few seconds when he was… when he was standing over me. And the smell of the showers at the pool – the cleaning agent? – I had to take about seventy-five calming breaths before I could actually use the facility. But… I'm managing."

"Data's still providing the support you need."

"He is, but…" I cut myself off. "Never mind."

"No, Zoe. Tell me." She set her mug aside, but I kept mine cradled in both hands.

"He keeps telling me, every time I apologize for a nightmare, or a meltdown, or… he keeps telling me it is 'part of his role as my boyfriend and lover,' and to me that means he sees it as his _job_, and I don't want to be an obligation."

"I think you're misconstruing what Data means," she said. "I'm certain he views you as his partner. He's said as much during poker games."

"He talks about me during poker games?" I wasn't sure if I was flattered or disturbed by that.

Her gaze sharpened, her focus on me increased. "Why does that distress you?"

I had to think about it. "I don't know." I laughed, but it was a short, hollow sound. "I mean, I _really_ don't know. We're dating. We spend huge amounts of time together. He _should_ be talking about me, I guess."

"You don't talk about him?"

"Who would I possibly talk about him with?" I asked. "My friends pretty much agree that we belong together, but they see him as Data our math tutor at best and Commander Data, second officer, otherwise. My mother _reports_ to him, so I try to limit what I say, and anyway, she's planning her wedding. Sometimes I talk to Annette – she's a year ahead of the rest of us – and she gets it."

"Do you think your isolation from your peer group is causing your worry that Data sees you as an obligation?"

I took a moment to analyze before I answered. "Maybe. I mean… we all still hang out together playing board games or playing on the holodeck, but I feel like… I feel like I'm also playing at still being the Zoe they're used to."

The counselor left her chair and came to sit with me on the couch. I was past needing a warning when she was going to touch me, but she moved with evident caution, even so, as she put a friendly arm around my shoulder. "In many ways," she said softly, "you're _not_ 'the Zoe they're used to.' You went through a traumatic experience, and no matter how resilient you are, that affects you. It changes you."

"I feel like it aged me."

"Emotionally, it did."

I let out a sigh. "So, what do I do? I'm not jumping every time someone touches me, but I feel like… like I'm not quite big enough anymore to fill my own skin. Diminished. I feel… diminished." In my head I heard the combined tones that formed a diminished triad. _Way to be literal brain-of-mine. _Maybe Data was rubbing off on me. "When do I get to feel like me again?"

"Do you want the truth, or the lie that might make you feel better?" She was teasing, I knew, to elicit a smile, and it worked.

"Truth, always. Even if it's grim."

"It isn't a question of feeling like yourself again, as much as it is of redefining what 'yourself' means. Do you understand?"

"I'm never going to be the way I was before," I said. "So I have to figure out what my new 'normal' is?"

"Yes, Zoe, exactly. Do you think you're ready to make that our focus?"

I nodded. "I think I'm ready to try."

She used the arm she'd draped over my shoulder to pull me into more of a friendly hug, then released me and returned to her own chair. "I think we've covered enough for today. Is there anything else you'd like to bring up?"

I started to shake my head, but then I remembered that there was something. "Actually, I could use a favor. I went into sickbay last week because in all the… because with everything else going on, I never had my birth control shot updated, and while it's not like I have to worry about pregnancy with Data, it makes everything else… It's convenient not having cramps and not dealing with all the, well, you know." I could see her trying not to laugh. "It was while I was in there that Dr. Crusher deactivated Data, and I'm still a little upset with her about that. Could you help me go directly to Nurse Ogawa or Dr. Selar?"

"You know she was under the influence of that game," the counselor reminded me gently. "But yes, I know exactly what you mean, and if you like I'll walk you down there right now."

"I'd really appreciate it. Thank you."

**(=A=)**

Dr. Selar was both on duty and available when Counselor Troi walked me into sickbay. She went to see Dr. Crusher – the two were good friends after all – and left me with the Vulcan doctor, who ushered me into one of the private parts of the medical facility.

I had to endure a pelvic exam, but the doctor was both warm (for a Vulcan) and witty – Vulcans who aren't strict practitioners of _C'Thia _can be surprisingly adept at sarcasm – and I was on my way out the door within forty minutes.

Dr. Crusher was out of her office by then, conferring with Captain Picard and Data about something. I heard her mention skin colors and pigment tests, and tease the captain about one of his eyes being slightly higher than the other.

I also heard her ask Data if his ears were removable, and caught his response that they were _not¸_ which made me grin, but also made me curious. Why would they need to be removed at all? I was fairly certain I wasn't destined to know anytime soon since it was Data's poker night, and the likelihood of catching him alone to even ask him was pretty slim, but then I heard the word 'Romulan,' and my idle curiosity wasn't so much idle anymore.

I must have reacted in some obvious way, because I saw Data give a flicker of a reaction, but I had less than an hour to eat lunch and get to my afternoon class – and Sokel was almost as finicky as a certain android I was in love with when it came to punctuality.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45234.99**

**(Wednesday, 27 March 2368, 00:11 hours, ship's time) **

By the time I'd met Mom and Ed for dinner at home, the _Enterprise _was headed to Vulcan. Data, as far as I knew, was at his poker game, and we had no plans to meet afterward, so it surprised me when our door-chime was activated a little after midnight, and he appeared in response to my mother's invitation to enter.

"Zoe." He said my name in a brighter tone than he typically used for others. "Emily," he greeted my mother, in his normal voice, using her given name so she'd know it wasn't an official visit. "I apologize for the lateness of the hour. I realize that it is a school night, but I must speak with Zoe, and the conversation may take us beyond her curfew."

I knew he was asking my mother's permission for the same reason I was even sticking to the curfew we'd agreed upon. True, I was technically emancipated, but we all knew that was a legal measure, not due to a family disagreement. Maintaining a good relationship with my mother was in all of our best interests.

My mother's face wasn't quite blank; there were faint worry lines around her eyes. She was forcing herself not to react. She was silent for a long moment and then she sighed softly. "You wouldn't be asking for her at this hour if it wasn't important," she said. "I'll see you sometime tomorrow, yes?"

"Of course, Mom. Dinner, if nothing else." I was teasing her a little.

She gave me a grin that was two parts good humor and one part rueful, and left the couch where we'd been sitting, watching a silly romantic-comedy on the video system, pausing to ruffle my hair on the way. "Sometimes," she said, "I miss the days when you were seven, and still thought boys were gross. G'night, kiddo."

"'Night, Mom," I said, waiting for Data to bid my mother goodnight, as well, before I asked him if I should bring a change of clothes.

"That would be prudent," he said.

It is never good when your android boyfriend uses the word 'prudent.'

**(=A=)**

I set my mug of mint tea down on the coffee table with a pointed _thump_. Data looked from the mug to my face and observed, "You are angry with me."

"Yeah, I am," I agreed. "I can't believe you felt you had to ask me that."

"As I stated, Zoe, the captain asked me to ascertain how much you had heard in sickbay, and whether or not you would share what you learned."

"I _know_ what you said," I shot back at him. "And _you_ should have been able to assure him that even if I'd been able to make sense of what I heard – and saw - I wouldn't have done anything with that knowledge. I understand that some things aren't meant for public consumption. I'm not stupid and I'm not entirely clueless."

"I do not think you are stupid," came his quiet response, and I sharpened my focus, searching his face. It _bothered _him when I said things like that…I wanted to know why, but that was another conversation entirely. "I was merely doing what Captain Picard asked of me."

"Yes, I understand that, but you still could have just told him that you trust me. God, Data, the very first time we had tea on this couch you gave me one of your biggest secrets _ever._"

"It was not this couch."

"What?"

"The conversation you refer to did not take place on this couch; it was on my original couch."

"Not really the point," I said.

"No," he agreed. "It is not."

"I would never gossip about something I saw," I told him softly. "Or heard. _Ever_. The stuff today… if you hadn't basically implied you don't trust me, I would have just quietly asked you about it, in private."

"I did not intentionally imply anything of the kind," he countered. "I do trust you. Had I anticipated your reaction, I would have handled this conversation differently."

I could feel myself bristling. "But you still would have asked."

"Yes."

"Even though you knew - even though you _know_ – the answer?"

Something changed in his face, then. His expression… it didn't flatten, exactly, but he seemed suddenly younger. More innocent. "My core programming," he began, "includes the requirement that I accede to reasonable requests made by a superior officer. Captain Picard's request did not seem unreasonable; therefore I had to comply."

_Had to… _His words rang in my head, and suddenly his expression made sense. He wasn't afraid, exactly, but he was as close to it as he could come, and the reason was… me. He wasn't sure of my reaction to hearing about his programming. I was reeling… devastated that he would think I'd balk, hurt on his behalf for the comments and slights he must have endured when he was…new. Just like that, my anger, which had already begun to fade, was completely gone.

I moved across the couch, out of the corner I'd been curled in, and up against the familiar lines of his body. "I'd like you to tell me more about your core programming, Data, if you're willing. Not tonight, but soon. Will you?"

"As part of your need to know how I…work?" Data used my words, but his tone was all his own. He lifted his arm, obviously intending to wrap it around me, but paused. "Are you no longer angry with me?" he asked somewhat warily.

"No more anger," I said, and leaned up to kiss him. "I'm sorry I over-reacted. The reason _I_ was in sickbay was because in all the aftermath of Melona, I missed a birth control booster. I tried to get it last week, but everyone was a bit…distracted. I had a session with Counselor Troi right before that. So, not only am I a little hormonal, but all my emotions are running closer to the surface than usual."

His arm found its resting place, and he pulled me slightly closer and nuzzled my hair. "I apologize for angering you." I wrapped my arm around his middle and savored the contact for a minute or so before I laughed softly. "Zoe, what is amusing you?"

"Us." I said. "We just survived our first fight as a couple." _And I didn't run away,_ I added to myself. _I didn't even consider it. _

"Ah, the 'lovers' quarrel,' a time-honored tradition."

I laughed again. "Something like that." Another time, I would have made a joke about how make-up sex was the logical next step, but something else, something more immediate, occurred to me. "You're going away." It wasn't a question.

"Very soon, yes."

"You don't know when, exactly?"

"I am afraid not. It is dependent upon the length of our visit to Vulcan, and the results of that visit."

"Should you be telling me this?"

"I have told you nothing specific to the mission. You are already aware of the ship's current destination."

"True." I paused for a moment, concentrating on worming my hand between his uniform jacket and t-shirt, and his skin. "I've never been to Vulcan."

"I do not believe there will be time for you to visit on this trip. If that changes, I will let you know. However, it is a frequent stopover, and I would be happy to escort you the next time the _Enterprise_ is 'in the neighborhood.'"

"You know I'm going to hold you to that."

"I expect no less."

"Me either."

I adjusted my position on the couch, snuggling closer to him, splaying my hand across his midsection, under his clothes, feeling the warmth of his skin, and the steady pulsing _thrum_ of his internal systems.

**(=A=)**

Hours later, unable to sleep, I was lying on my side in Data's bed, one hand wandering idly over his chest and abdomen, as if my fingers could remember the different textures – hairless and perfectly smooth, except for his nipples, until I reached the fine, dark-gold hair that extended from his navel downward.

Data was being passive, allowing my explorations. I'm not sure if he recognized that contact relaxed me, or if he was merely curious to find out what I would do. When I brushed my fingers against his nipple again, his breath hitched. I repeated the action, and he repeated that tiny little almost-gasp. That he managed to still remain focused on whatever information was flowing through the optical cable linking him to the ship's computer was both impressive and frustrating.

Intrigued, I replaced my fingers with my mouth, first licking then sucking.

I felt his hand move to my hair, and stroke through it. "Zoe…"

"I'm sorry; have I distracted you?" I asked, feigning innocence. In a more normal voice, I added. "I can't sleep, thinking about you going on a mission. I know you go all the time. I could probably list every time you've been off the ship since I met you. But now everything's… different."

There was a soft click as he removed the cable. A subtle sound of his scalp panel sliding back into place. If I had run my fingers through his hair just then, I would have never known half his head had just been exposed to the air. "You have, but it is not an unwelcome distraction." Data caught my hand, twining his fingers with mine, and then bringing our clasped hands to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, and our gazes locked. "The nature of my duty to the ship has not changed," he said softly, his eyes never wavering from mine. "However, I recognize that I also have a duty to you. I will always return to you if I am able, Zoe. You may accept that as a 'given.'"

"I know," I said. "I know you will. But I'm still going to worry. In the meantime, I plan to memorize every centimeter of you."

"With your fingers?"

"Mmhmm. Fingers, eyes, lips, tongue…" I shifted my position, lying half on top of him so I could reach his other nipple, and gave it the same attention I'd given the first. Again, his breathing changed.

"If you are going to do that you must allow me to reciprocate," he said softly. "May I?" His question was meant to make me feel safe, I knew, but for some reason it only served as a reminder of _why_ he kept asking every time contact was about to happen. I nodded and sat up so I could unbutton the pajama top I was wearing, but he sat up, as well, turning toward me. Gently, he moved my hands away. "Let me."

As he drew the blue cotton away from my body, I wondered how much control he had to exert to ensure that nothing ripped, how much care he had to put into every caress. I suspected it was a constant balancing act. I wasn't ready to ask for that level of detail. When Data's lips met mine, I put my questions aside. When he trailed kisses down my throat, they went completely from my mind.

My hands landed on his shoulders, first just resting then gripping as he dipped his head to capture my breast in his mouth, laving my nipple with his tongue. He had kissed my breasts before, but that had been a ritual, a re-claiming. This was… not. He sucked gently and I gasped.

Data's right hand cupped my other breast, my left one, while his left was at my back. He rolled my nipple between two of his long, elegant fingers. I loved his fingers. Loved the way his hands felt on my skin. He lifted his head away from my right breast, and I used that moment to kiss him, to reposition my hands, and uncurl my legs, to push backward against the arm that was holding me.

He supported me, helping me lie back against the pillows, but holding his body slightly away from mine. I slid my left hand away from his shoulder, caressing his chest and then lifting it to his face. Ours eyes met again, and then he turned his head to kiss my palm, before allowing me to guide his head back to my left breast.

His breath was warm against my skin. His lips closed around my right nipple. His tongue teased it. I shivered, and ran my hands through his hair, breathing his name, "Data…"

I felt his teeth on my nipple. It felt good, and then everything shifted, and I was back on that cold, empty ship with… him.

_I had the first taste_, Lore's words, the words that were pounding into my brain when he had bitten me and made me bleed, came to me unbidden. _Pigeon's gonna get plucked. _

"Don't." I hadn't meant to say it out loud. In my head I was saying it to Lore.

"Zoe?" Dimly, I recognized that Data had released me, that he was pulling away. "Did I hurt you? I believed I had calculated an acceptable amount of pressure." Later, replaying that night in my memory, I would realize that he'd sounded… stricken.

_Pigeon's gonna get pounded. _

"No," I said, meaning that he hadn't. I sat up, moving toward him, but in my head I was also still with Lore. "No," I said again. "Don't. Stop. Please, don't." I felt tears forming, and squeezed my eyes shut, but that just made the memory of Lore loom larger.

I lashed out with my right hand, felt Data stop my punch with his open palm. "Zoe, stop. Zoe, you are having a flashback."

"NO!"

I struck with my other hand, and he didn't stop me in time. I felt the impact against his chest, felt the sting of pain in my fingers.

"Zoe, open your eyes. Zoe, I am Data. You are having a flashback but you are safe. Please trust me. I will not harm you."

I'd never heard him plead before, and the sound of it, the obvious anguish in his voice, brought me back to the here-and-now. I opened my eyes, and his face, his gold-leaf complexion and eyes like suns, were all I could see. "Data…"

"You are safe," he repeated. "I did not mean to hurt –"

"You didn't." I cut him off. "It was… _he_ bit me. Your teeth triggered the memory, but _you_ didn't hurt me. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't know. _I_ didn't know." My left hand was still stinging. "I hit you." I said, realizing. "Oh, god, I _hit_ you. Wait… _how_ did I hit you?"

"I was not anticipating a second punch," he said. "Apparently your boxing lessons with the captain are… quite effective."

I was still teary, but I laughed a little, even so. "Apparently." I took several ragged breaths and then added, "I'm sorry."

"It is alright."

"No, Data, it's not. I _liked_ what you were doing. I didn't want it to stop. I wanted…" I trailed off, anger welling up in me again. "It's not _fair,_" I said. "I'm trying so hard, and seeing Counselor Troi as often as everyone thinks I should, and just when I think he's out of my head, he _isn't. _God, I can't even…" I gulped air. "I can't even make love with the man I love, and it's not fucking _fair._"

For the first time in weeks, Data gathered me into his arms without asking me first. He kissed the top of my head, and whispered, "My Zoe." For a long while, I thought that was all he had to say, but after a few minutes, he spoke again. "You are correct; it is not fair. I would undo what Lore did to you if I could, but I cannot. We must, therefore, play the hand we have been dealt."

The oblique poker reference made me smile a little, but the rest of his words… "'We?'" I asked him. "The hand 'we' have been dealt?"

"We have spoken of what the future may hold," he reminded me gently. "If that future is to come to fruition, then yes, we are 'in this together.' I am devoted to you."

"I think I'm just beginning to truly understand what that means."

"I _know_," he responded, "that it is very late, and that these flashbacks exhaust you. Please allow me to examine your hand; it may require medical attention." He raised the level of the light in the bedroom, and gently probed the hand I'd punched him with. "Are you able to bend your fingers?"

I tried and found that I could. "They're a little sore," I said, "and a little tingly, but if you can replicate a light pain killer, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine in a few hours."

"I concur."

A few minutes later, my hand was much improved, the room was once again soothingly dark, and we were back in bed, and wrapped around each other "Data… promise me we'll try again when you get back from your mission?"

"We were not in a race when our relationship shifted last fall. We are not in a race now. We will 'try again' when you are ready."

I closed my eyes, and started to drift toward sleep, secure in his solid presence. But there was one more thing I had to say before I could really let go. "I love you."

He acknowledged my words with another nuzzling kiss to the top of my head.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45242.06**

**(Friday, 29 March 2368, 14:16 hours, ship's time)**

It was always ominous when one of us was pulled out of class. Most of the time, such an action meant that one of our parents had been injured on a mission. When I was called away from my Friday afternoon literature class, however, I knew it was because Data's away mission, the one that involved some kind of covert operation and costumes, had moved from imminent to immediate.

Ed flashed a sympathetic look my way and sent me off to answer the call.

Data was waiting for me in the hallway, and even though he would have looked the way he always did, at least to the casual observer, I was adept, by then, at seeing the subtle changes in the way he held himself, in the way his usual placid expression held a hint of gravity.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question. I didn't need to ask.

"In one hour. I have already packed, but I did not wish to leave without seeing you."

"Thank you for that. I know you're not used to having to…"

"I believe it will be quite easy to _become_ used to it, Zoe."

I nodded. "I suppose you'd like me to take care of Spot?" I was teasing him. I knew there was no question about who would care for the cat.

"She is most comfortable with you. As well I would like…" He trailed off. "This is not an appropriate venue for this conversation," he announced, and then led me down the hall to a relatively private viewing alcove. "Come."

I followed him into the small space, where we sat on the small bench facing toward the large viewport. "I would like," he began again, "to offer you the use of my quarters as a refuge and a home while I am away. Spot is calmer when she is not alone at night, and you have stated more than once that you 'sleep better' in our bed than you do at your mother's."

"You won't feel like I've invaded your space?"

"You already spend a significant amount of time in my quarters. I have already extended a general invitation for you to come and go as you please. As well, you have already 'invaded' my programming."

I laughed at that. "So I have. Well, thank you. I don't know if I'll want to spend much time there without you, but it's nice to know I can." I looked away from him, then back, and admitted. "I'm going to miss you, and I'm scared you won't come home, but these missions are a part of your job, and I guess learning to deal with absences is just another, really tricky, etude."

"Indeed," he said, with a note of something like pride in his voice. "It will be so for both of us." It hadn't occurred to me until that moment that being apart from _me_ would affect _him, _but I chose not to question his statement. "I believe," he continued, "that I can offer something which may…help."

He reached into his uniform jacket and withdrew a familiar string of green, white, and turquoise beads. "My bracelet," I breathed, taking it from him. "But, it broke when Lore was… it broke on Melona."

"A _very_ young man of our mutual acquaintance collected the beads and held them until I could retrieve them. I restrung them for you, but one bead was missing. I took the liberty of adding a single one of an additional color."

I examined the bracelet, found the single yellow-gold bead that had been added, and smiled. "It reminds me of you," I said.

"That was my intent."

I held out my left wrist, "Help me put it on?" He nodded, and did so. In truth, this was the third time Data had performed this precise action, but that time, after the cords were fastened securely, he placed a kiss over the pulse-point inside my wrist.

I shivered slightly, but then a wave of guilt hit. "Charlie Simmons," I said. "I feel bad. I couldn't deal with people… after… and I never got to say goodbye."

The Melona colony had been planned with backup alpha and beta sites, just in case, and while I had been in the immediate stage of recovery from my own ordeal, the colonists had been taken to their new homeworld.

"I am certain his parents explained your absence in a way he could understand."

"I know but…"

"Perhaps you could send him a letter."

I grinned ruefully. "That's not a bad idea." I paused. "How much time 'til you report to the shuttle bay?"

"I am reporting to the transporter room, not the shuttle bay, and there are thirty-seven minutes, seventeen seconds remaining."

"Am I allowed to walk down there with you, and see you off?"

He took a millisecond to think it over. "That would be acceptable."

I caught his hand as we left the alcove, and we walked that way to Transporter Room Three. The corridor outside the room was conveniently empty, so I pulled his head down for a searing kiss. "I love you," I reminded him, breathing the words against his mouth. "Come home to me."

He ran his hand through my hair, then pulled away. "Etudes," he said softly. "It is all etudes, Zoe, and we will both master them."

We shared one more kiss, and then he left.

I waited until the doors had closed behind him before I turned and retraced our path, but I didn't go back to class, and I didn't go home. I went to his quarters, curled up on the couch with Spot, and sobbed until I'd wrung every tear out of my system.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45242.06**

**(Sunday, 31 March 2368, 11:31 hours, ship's time)**

Even though Data had given me his permission to stay in his quarters, I'd resisted, electing to spend the first night he was gone at home with my mother. When I still hadn't managed to actually sleep by ten on Saturday morning, I packed a bag, and relocated. He may not have been home, but being around his things, and sleeping in the bed we shared, helped more than I thought it would.

Also it was easier to not see my mother's increasingly worried-looking face.

When Data's annunciator sounded on Sunday morning, I called, "Come in," assuming it was Mom insisting that I meet her for brunch, even though we'd agreed to dinner.

Instead, the person who walked in was my android lover's best friend. "Hey, Zoe," Geordi said, smiling. "Data said you'd likely be staying here while he was gone. I thought you might do me a favor, and join me for a meal."

"Do _you_ a favor?" I asked. "He put you up to this."

"He might have mentioned his concern for your well-being," the engineer hedged. "But I thought you might want to give me a hand with a project after we eat."

"A project?" I asked skeptically. "What kind of project requires the assistance of a student whose talents are all in the arts, rather than the sciences?"

"Uh-uh. That's for me to know, and you to discover after you've come to brunch with me," he teased.

I looked down at the jeans and boots I'd thrown on, along with a teal V-neck sweater. The sleeves were pushed up, and my bracelet clicked satisfyingly from where it belonged, on my left wrist, every time I moved that arm. "Am I dressed okay?"

He made a show of giving me the once-over. "You're fine. And I'm hungry."

I laughed. "Okay, let's go."

I'd expected him to take me to Ten-Forward, and I wasn't mistaken. I was, however, surprised to find that we weren't eating alone. The table he directed me toward was already occupied by an engineering ensign I'd met a couple of weeks before.

"Zoe, this is Ensign Robin Lefler. Robin, this is my friend Zoe."

"We've met," the other woman said, offering me a shy smile. "But it wasn't under the best circumstances. I'm glad to have another chance. Data speaks of you often."

I managed not to blush, but answered as I took the seat opposite her, "Well, if it's good, it's true, and if it's not he was misinformed."

She and Geordi both laughed at that. "It's all good," she said. "Trust me. Anyway, Geordi says you need shuttle lessons, and I need to earn hours to get my next certification."

I turned to the chief engineer, giving him a quizzical look. "You're pairing us up?"

He nodded. "Something like that. I'll run you through the basics on the simulator after we eat, and then Ensign Lefler – Robin – will supervise your practice."

"But none of that," Robin put in, "can happen until we eat. I heard you're a connoisseur of breakfast foods. What do you recommend?"

Without Data sharing my plate, I was able to order a side of bacon with my omelet, and both of the engineers sharing my table followed my lead. Brunch was pleasant, and then we relocated to the holodeck to run the shuttle simulations.

Three hours later, Robin excused herself to get ready for a duty shift on the bridge. Like most ensigns, she was rotating through different departments, though Geordi had been impressed enough with her that she was spending a significant amount of time in his. "We'll do this again on Wednesday, okay, Zoe?" she asked as she exited the holographic shuttle.

"Count on it," I said.

Geordi shared a pleased grin with me, but he waited for his protégé to leave before he said, "Thank you for being open to sharing your lesson. Lefler's got the makings of a good officer, but she doesn't make friends easily."

"So you set us up because I'm non-threatening, or because you want her to believe I'll report everything to Data?"

"I knew you'd figure that out."

I grinned. "I'm pretty sure you _also_ know that Data and I almost never talk about his work."

"But you won't rat me out."

"Well," I began in my best wheedling tone.

"Oh, come on, Zoe." But he was chuckling.

I favored him with a grin, then let it fade before I said, "Actually, _I_ kind of need a favor

"Name it."

"You're covering our math class while Data's away, yes?" Again, he answered with a nod. "Last year, he had our final ready weeks before the end of the school year. I thought at the time that it was just so Wes could take it early… but I realized he's just that obsessive about preparation."

"He can be. Where is this going Zoe?"

"Does he have this year's final already prepared? And if so do you have access to it?"

Geordi leaned back in the right hand seat of the shuttle. "I can't give you the questions in advance Zoe. I wouldn't, even for you."

"What? Oh, god, no. I didn't mean… Look, I was just hoping you'd give me the final – actually administer the final – for me."

"I could. Would you mind telling me why?"

I hesitated, not sure how detailed I should be. Finally, I decided that the only thing that would work was the truth. "Because even though you've been grading my work since the semester started, Data and I have reached a point in our relationship where I don't think I can sit in his class anymore. It wouldn't be…"

"Appropriate?"

"Something like that." I paused. "You don't really want the details, do you?" I made the question light, almost a joke, just to take the pressure off.

"Good to know one of you knows where friendship ends and TMI begins." He looked out the simulated window at the simulated star field, apparently turning my request around in his mind. "Tell you what," he began after several minutes' thought. "Come to class this week. The lesson plan is mostly review. If you still want to take the final, I'll give it to you on Friday."

"Thank you," I said, resisting the urge to hug him. "_Thank you_."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45253.43**

**(Tuesday, 2 April, 2368, 18:12 hours, ship's time)**

"Have you ever been to a Vulcan funeral?" I asked my mother over dinner in our quarters. Ed was in his own quarters, giving us some space for a mother-daughter dinner before the first rehearsal of _Little Women. _Dr. Crusher had hand-picked her cast, and since Data's character didn't even come into the show until Act II, she'd decided to begin rehearsals without him.

I didn't mind – after all, it wasn't like he had to work to memorize lines or blocking the way the rest of us did – except that Lt. Barclay was his understudy. While Reg's performance skills had definitely improved, he still wasn't the man I wanted to play Fritz to my Jo.

Not that most actors got to choose their co-stars, but still…

"I haven't," my mother answered. "But the event next week won't be a funeral, so much as a memorial. Sarek was a public figure, an icon throughout the Federation, so he will be remembered with a public event, but from what I've heard, the actual funeral was just for family, and has already occurred."

"Tev said pretty much the same thing," I said as I picked at the grilled chicken on my plate. Word of Ambassador Sarek's death had come just a few days after the _Enterprise_ had left Vulcan, after Data and Captain Picard had left the ship. "He said his mother's been in deep meditation since it happened, and he feels like a heavy sadness is weighing on him."

"It must be difficult to be a telepath or an empath at a time like this," Mom observed. "Are you feeling any of it?"

Tev – my ex-boyfriend, and still friend, T'vek Mairaj – had melded with me twice when we were intimate. The first time had been an accident, and it had scared both of us so much we'd barely interacted for days afterward. The second time had been on the night of my sixteenth birthday, and it had been intentional. A lot of people believed that mind-melds were painful and horrible, but my experience had been full of joy and love.

Still, over a year later, there were sometimes…echoes… especially if we were in close proximity, or, less often, when we were chatting over subspace.

"I've felt a little subdued, but I just assumed it was because I miss Data, and my routine is off." I hesitated, because I still hadn't told Mom about the most recent flashback I'd had, and I wasn't certain I even should, considering when it happened. _She's your mother, she loves you, and she'll understand_, I reminded myself. "Listen, Mom, the other night when Data came over to ask you if I could go talk with him… something happened."

My mother put her fork down. "Oh?" Her tone was casual, too casual.

"Well, first we had a fight, but we talked it through before we went to bed. But later…." I set down my own fork as well, but only so I could pick up my water glass, and drink from it. "Later, I couldn't sleep, and we… we started getting amorous and in the middle of it, I had a flashback, and I punched him."

"You _punched_ Data?"

"Well, not hard, or anything."

"Did he hurt you?"

"My hand was a little sting-y for a while, but it's fine now." I said. "I mean, it was fine by… it's fine. That's really not the topic I wanted to focus on."

She picked up her fork again, stabbed a carrot, ate it, and then, finally, met my eyes. "What _did_ you want to focus on?"

"What do I do so I don't have a flashback in the middle of sex?"

My question hung between us like the speech bubbles in an ancient comic book. I saw my mother press her lips together and then give a slight nod, as if acknowledging what I'd asked. When she finally spoke, it was in a voice that was level and soft.

"I think you just have to be honest, Zoe. If there are gestures or positions that remind you of what happened when you were with…"

"When I was with Lore, Mom," I interrupted. "We have to say his name. He isn't some fantasy-novel wizard whose name gives him power, he's just a person. A sick and twisted person, but still a person. We have to say his name, or he becomes a nightmare. And I'm tired of nightmares."

"Alright, then. If there are specific things that remind you of being with Lore, you need to be very honest with Data."

"Just say, 'don't pin me, don't grab my wrists,' as if it's normal to give instructions?" _Or 'don't use teeth.' _

"It _is_ normal, hon, to tell your partner if there are things you do or don't want to do. With all the time you and Data have spent together, it's never come up?"

"I didn't know something would bother me until it did, and _when_ it did it was zero-to-flashback in the space of a breath. I mean… how do I warn him not to do things, if I don't even know which things to warn him about?"

"Oh, Zoificus, you _do_ love to challenge me, don't you?"

I shrugged. "Like mother, like daughter?"

"Evidently," Mom snorted. We each toyed with our respective dinners for a few minutes before she asked, "Have you asked Counselor Troi about this?"

I shook my head. "She's not just my counselor; she's his. She's also his _friend_. I can talk to her about almost anything, and she's usually pretty helpful, but… this wasn't a counselor-thing. This was a Mom-thing."

My mother favored me with a combination of her patented 'gushy-mom' look, and her best wry grin. "I see." She stared at her plate and my plate, and seemed to come to a decision. "Zoe, darling, I'd like to suggest something."

"Mom?"

"Let's recycle these plates and replace them with chocolate brownie sundaes."

"Mom?"

"This is a chocolate sundae conversation, Zoe. Trust me."

She didn't have to ask me again.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45261.96**

**(Friday, 5 April 2368, 21:04 hours, ship's time) **

By Friday, I was actually looking forward to hiding in Data's quarters for the weekend just so I could have some alone-time. My well-meaning friends had conspired to keep me busy all week, with holodeck time, study sessions, and video night, not to mention rehearsals for the play, and I was so tired I was pretty sure I could sleep three days straight with no trouble.

As he'd promised, Geordi had given me the final exam for Data's math tutorial earlier that day, just after our regular class had met. My score wasn't bad considering the material included the eight weeks of class I wouldn't be attending: eighty-six percent. Averaged with my other test scores, my grade for the whole class ended up being ninety-one percent. Not as high as I'd hoped, but not low enough to affect my GPA much. I would still have to see Ms. Phelps after the weekend, but I felt confident about my decision.

By nineteen hundred hours, I'd spent enough time with my friends that they didn't object to me bailing on them, and I'd also checked in with Counselor Troi, who apologized for not being around much during the previous week. She had been dealing with a mission of her own, she explained.

"But if you need me…?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Well, mostly." I was sitting on a chair in her quarters, and I didn't want to interrupt her evening for longer than was truly necessary. I filled her in on my week, ending with, "But the whole ship feels kind of… subdued? No, _somber_. And I feel this weird mix of sadness and loneliness at the edge of my brain. I thought I was just missing Data – pathetic, right? – but Mom suggested I might be feeling echoes of Tyvek's sadness over Sarek."

"That's possible," she agreed. "But it's also possible it's your own grief. You met the ambassador, didn't you?"

I nodded, "When he was here, a bit over a year ago. But it was only a two second conversation. Data told him I was a student and a musician, and he told me never to stop playing, even if I don't make music a career."

"Wise advice, don't you think?" she said it with just enough levity to take the edge off my mood.

"I guess I feel like I didn't know him well enough to grieve over his death."

"Grief doesn't work that way, Zoe; you know that. You've grown up hearing about Sarek, and when you met him he became a real person to you, and not just a figure from a textbook. It's natural for you to feel sad."

"I guess so," I agreed reluctantly.

"I _know_ so," she said. "As to Data, it's not pathetic that you miss him. The two of you have been experiencing some intense changes in your relationship, and this is the first time he's been away from the ship since those changes began." She smiled softly. "I shouldn't tell you this, but I have it on excellent authority that he and the captain will likely be home by morning." Her expression grew serious again. "Don't you dare wait up for him, though; he wouldn't want you to. Go make some tea or hot chocolate, cuddle Spot, and read or watch something on the entertainment system."

I stood up. "I'll do that," I said. "Thank you."

I returned to Data's quarters and gave them a once-over to make sure I hadn't made things too untidy, spent half an hour indulging a playful Spot, and then took the Counselor's advice and went to bed with the cat, a book, and a mug of mint tea.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45262.79**

**(Saturday, 6 April 2368, 04:23 hours, ship's time) **

The sound of the bedroom door opening and closing inserted itself into my dream, rousing me just enough to ask, "Data? Is that you?"

"Yes, Zoe. I am home. Do not get up, I will join you."

I heard the soft sounds of clothing being removed, but I was still mostly asleep, and happy to stay that way. I felt his weight make the mattress dip slightly, and when he moved to cuddle with me, I turned my head enough for him to easily reach my lips.

"Missed you," I murmured, nestling myself into his arms. Dimly, I realized he hadn't bothered with his pajama bottoms. "Glad you're back."

"I have missed you, also," he said. "It is after zero four hundred hours. Go back to sleep; we will 'catch up' later in the morning."

"Mmkay. 'Night, Data."

"Good night, Zoe. Pleasant dreams."

* * *

**Notes: **The events of "Unification, Part I" _begin_ on Stardate 45233.1 (Tuesday 26 March, 2368, 07:33 hours, ship's time), but clearly they're not resolved in a day – they don't even get to Vulcan and then to the Romulan homeworld in a day. For purposes of this story, that's roughly when Picard was briefed, and any other Stardates and Calendar dates are consistent within the CrushVerse. We're going to pretend that there were more than four days between Unification I and Unification 2. (I do not believe the writers had any real concept of the actual vastness of space. (Fortunately there are no canon events that have Stardates in April, so I'm not moving anything else out of alignment.)

Dr. Selar is a canon character. We saw her in one episode (she's played by Suzi Plakson, who also played K'Ehleyr in TNG, the Female Q in _Voyager_, and Tarah in _Enterprise_), but it's implied that she's still aboard the _Enterprise. _She has a prominent role in the TNG novel _The Eyes of the Beholders,_ by A.C. Crispin. It's vintage TNG, but worth the read.

The conversation between Zoe and Data (the very first time they had tea in his quarters) is in _Crush_, Chapter 26 ("Parley.").

_C'Thia_ is the Vulcan practice that humans interpret as logic and the control of emotions. It's actually much more than that, and not all Vulcans follow it to the same degree.

Sarek's death happened off-camera in _Unification_, Part I. Zoe and T'vek mind-melded in _Crush_, Chapter 42 ("Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen")


	22. Fusion

**_Disclaimer:_****_ Star Trek: the Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

**_Warning_****_: This chapter is rated M for mildly explicit, consensual, sexual content. _**

* * *

**Fusion**

**Stardate 45263.04**

**(Saturday, 6 April 2368, 06:35 hours, ship's time)**

For the first time in a week, I woke up with my head on Data's chest. For the first time in over ten days, I had actually slept through the night, _and _that sleep had been nightmare-free. I smiled against my bedmate's golden skin, then adjusted my position so I could see his face. "Morning."

"Good morning," he responded. "It would appear that you slept well; am I mistaken?"

"Yes, I did, and no, you're not. Actually, I was nightmare-free while you were gone, though part of that is because I kept waking up afraid I was _going_ to have a bad dream. That got better when I told Mom I was sleeping here. I know you didn't mean for me to basically move in."

"You are always welcome here," he reminded me gently, and then added. "I am glad my quarters were the refuge I hoped they would be." As I ran an exploratory hand down the side of his body – I knew he hadn't put pajamas on, but I wasn't certain exactly _how_ undressed he was – his breathing hitched slightly, but he continued his thought even so. "I had not expected to find you here when I arrived. It was a pleasant surprise."

"It was Friday night; where else would I be?" I wasn't snarking at him, really. "I figured you probably hadn't ever had anyone waiting for you to come home, that way. You didn't get a proper welcome though." I caressed his hip – no underwear, after all – and then lifted my hand to scrape my fingernails along his inner thigh, watching and listening for his reaction.

A slight intake of breath, a hint of quaver in his voice when he began to speak. "You do not have to welcome me back with sexual intimacy. Your presence is enough."

"Oh, just kissing you would have been enough of a welcome," I said. "This –" and I repeated my previous action on his other leg "- is separate. Actually, I have a theory. And a question."

"I am intrigued," he said, his voice still a little shaky.

"Okay, theory first. I think I'm less likely to have another flashback when we're engaged in intimate activity if we actually continue to _be_ intimate. We need – _I _need – us to go slow. Not… not so much with _what_ we do, but… how. I don't know what my triggers are, and I won't unless we try things, but… slowly."

"An interesting theory, and one that has merit."

"I did say I liked what you were doing… before everything went sideways."

"I remember," he assured me. "May I touch you now?" Something must have shown in my face because he asked, "What is wrong?" almost immediately afterward.

"Can you just assume that if we're in bed together, unless I ask you _not_ to do something, you have _carte blanche_? I know why you keep asking me, but when I'm already touching you intimately it actually takes me _out_ of the moment. It brings everything else rushing back in."

"I understand," he said. Then he asked, "_Carte blanche_? As in blank check, latitude, free rein, free hand…"

"Data!" I couldn't help the outburst of exasperation.

"I am sorry, Zoe. I have noticed that you are often entertained when I provide a list of synonyms for the words and phrases you use."

In truth, I _was _amused, but I pressed my face into his shoulder to temper my reaction. When I'd quelled the urge to laugh, I said, "I _knew_ you did that on purpose, at least sometimes." He lifted me off of his chest and rolled onto his side, facing me. "I like this," I added softly. "Touching, talking – laughing." But then I realized, "I wish…"

"Zoe…"

"Just another point for the 'life is inherently unfair' side of things. I wish you could laugh with me. It… I don't know… it feels like I'm excluding you from something."

"But you are not," he insisted. "When you laugh at something I have said, it gives me the satisfaction of knowing that I am beginning to grasp the nuances of humor. In a way, you have given me a 'safe haven,' a place in which I can attempt such things."

"Which sort of leads me to my question."

"Please? Continue?" The words were encouraging ones.

"When I touch you," and I caressed his hip again, then rested my hand in that nest of nether-hair between his legs, and listened for the soft intake of breath, "and you do _that_, is it just a program 'if partner touches body part x, emit sigh at level y?' Or is it real?"

Data went very still, and for a moment I was afraid I'd insulted him, or worse, _hurt_ him. Two things he would claim not to feel, but I believed otherwise. "It is programming, but that does not mean it is not… real."

"I'm not sure I understand."

He reached between us, and teased the junction of my neck and shoulder with his long, elegant fingers, and my body twitched slightly in response. "In a sense," he said softly. "Your involuntary responses are also 'programmed.'"

He trailed his hand along my collar bone, and then down the center of my chest. A slight shift of his position allowed him better access, and his hand was beneath the pajama top I was wearing. He cupped my right breast, teasing my nipple with his thumb. I gasped, and moved slightly toward him, wanting more.

"When you respond to my touch, the small sounds you make, the fact that you move closer to me, those are responses dictated both by the physical stimulus I am providing and the fact that we are partners in a romantic relationship. _I_ am also reacting to physical stimulus, and the fact that we are lovers provides my neural network with the context for the appropriate 'type' of response." He paused, moving his head so he could meet my eyes. "Does that adequately answer your question?"

"I think so?"

But he could tell I hadn't completely absorbed his explanation. "My subroutines provide an analog for your involuntary responses, as dictated by the parameters of our relationship, our location, the amount of available time we have, and many other conditions," he elaborated.

"So, you respond one way to me touching you, just like I respond favorably to your touch, to your kisses, to the closeness of your body, because we're a couple, but…" My mind racing, I sat up in the bed. "Oh, god… Lore…"

Data sat up as well, in one smooth motion. "Zoe," he asked softly. "Are you having a flashback?"

"No," I said. "I'm sorry… It's just. What you said made me realize… Lore's kisses… the acid flavor. God… Even then. Even before you and I kissed the first time he tasted like acid. I thought… I never thought… Counselor Troi never suggested…" My eyes were filling with tears, and I wasn't sure why. "He tasted like acid because even the first time I didn't want _him_ kissing me."

Data's eyes were moving back and forth in the rapid, birdlike flicker that meant he was processing information. "That is very likely," he agreed after several seconds. "I am sorry for not 'connecting the dots' before; I had always been focused on the fact of what he was doing to you, rather than the nuances of your reactions to him."

"It doesn't matter now, anyway. It's just..." I shrugged helplessly. "Never mind. We should probably get up." I sighed. "The moment's dead, anyway."

"It does not have to be." He reached for my hair, combing through it with his fingers. Something in his face seemed to soften. "Carte blanche?" he asked, the tiniest hint of a smile curving up the corners of his mouth.

I laughed softly, and leaned to kiss him, reveling in the faint cashew essence that was always there. I pulled away and rested my forehead against his, closing my eyes. "I want…" I breathed.

"Tell me."

"You. I want you." I moved my head so I could meet his eyes. "I might still have a flashback, though."

"I am aware." His golden eyes seemed so much warmer than usual. Pools of sunlight or molten honey.

"I'm also a little over-dressed."

"May I?" he shifted his gaze from my eyes to my pajama top and back. I nodded, and he reached for the buttons, opening them and then pushing the sleeves off my shoulders and down my arms, before he finally freed me from it completely, and tossed it to the floor.

Data kissed my lips, my chin, the base of my throat. I reached for his shoulders, and together we moved to more horizontal positions, lying face-to-face as we had so often done before during our most intimate chats.

But we weren't speaking then. Or at least, our communication wasn't with words. One of his arms was beneath me. With his free hand he stroked my cheek, my neck, my side, trailing all the way down to the waistband of my underwear.

"I am going to lift you," he told me, and I had my first taste of how android strength could be used for tenderness as he supported my hips, and then my legs, with one hand and drew the pink lace-edged panties off of me with the other.

"Data, wait."

"Is something wrong? Do you wish to discontinue – " Were his warm yellow eyes that expressive only for me?

"I don't want to discontinue anything," I insisted softly. "Nothing's wrong, and I'd like to keep it that way." My voice sounded vaguely husky to my own ears. "As I said, I don't know for sure what will or won't trigger a flashback, but I think I know how to make one less likely."

"I will do whatever you need," he promised, and I knew he meant it.

"Mostly, there are things I need you _not_ to do. So, I guess it's _carte blanche_ with temporary restrictions." He rested his hand on my hip and waited for me to continue.

"Don't… don't pin me. I have to be able to move. Don't hold me by the wrists – hands and upper arms are fine. Don't force my knees up or my ankles behind my ears. Don't use teeth, at least right now – and I… I need to see your eyes, your face. I need to know it's you. If you feel me tensing, talk to me, use my name. Babble about whatever… it keeps me centered on you." I closed my eyes for a long moment, then opened them. "I know that's a lot."

Data squeezed my hip lightly. "It is not a lot for _me_," he reminded gently.

I stretched my neck slightly, to better reach his mouth with mine, kissing him and then telling him, "I love you. I trust you." I knew he was aware of both of those statements. I'm pretty sure _he_ knew I needed to say them.

"My, Zoe." His hand left my hip to smooth my hair away from my face, though he twisted a few strands around his finger, then let it go, while he promised, "I will keep you safe." And in that moment, I knew that he would.

I don't know how long we lay there, just touching each other, exploring. We exchanged as many soft sighs as we did kisses, and the sighs increased to whimpers and moans when his fingers first teased the hair between my legs, then dipped inside me, and pleasured me to climax.

I squirmed closer to him letting my own hand wander for a few minutes while I caught my breath, and then I completed the tour I'd started earlier that morning, finding the distinctively male part of his anatomy, and feeling it shift from flaccid to firm in my hand. There was nothing – _nothing _– about his responses that seemed anything but organic, and that realization made me smile.

I didn't stroke _him_ to climax, but I made his breathing stutter, and I heard him moan softly under my ministrations. But he stilled my hand. "Zoe, I cannot… that way."

"I'm sorry," I said, momentarily stung by his admission.

"Do not be," he said softly, as our eyes met again. "Are you… o-kay?"

His use of that word made me giggle, just a little, but I assured him, "I'm good." I was actually more than merely good. I felt… I felt all sorts of things at once. Love. Desire. Even a weird sort of pride in the notion that my hands could elicit such delicious sounds from the usually stoic man. Something shifted inside of me and _play_ became _want. _

He sensed the change in me. "Zoe?"

"I need you…" I didn't quite whisper. "…inside me. Please."

"Are you certain?"

_Yes_, I thought, and kissed him.

"Zoe," he repeated, "I… need you to tell me. _Are you certain_?"

"Yes," I breathed. "I've never been more certain of anything else."

His eyes met mine, and never wavered. He guided me with the pressure of his lips and hands, until I'd lifted my right leg to rest over his.

I tilted my pelvis toward him

Data shifted slightly against me.

Our bodies met and merged in a new-for-us but also ages-old way, until we were one tangle of lips and tongues and hands and legs. In a way, it was as though an open circuit had been completed. I didn't know if Data was leading this new dance, or I was.

We paused a moment, once we had joined, and I caught a flash of something on his face. Vulnerability, maybe? It was gone before I had time to really look at him, and then he _moved_ inside me, and I moved in response, and my focus changed.

Pressure. Motion. Heat. Friction. Moisture.

A bubble of pleasure was building inside me in a collection of incoherent feelings and sensations.

Oh, god.

_More…_

_Please…_

_Higher… _

_There… _

_Oh, god…_

_Yes, there. _

_Right there. _

_Faster!_

_Harder! _

_More!_

_Please!_

_More!_

_Yes!_

_Yes, Data!_

_Oh, god, oh, Data, yes! Yes! YES! _

"Zoe…" he crooned my name, and that, as much as our mutual physical exertion sent me over that last edge.

"Data…." I heard myself repeating his name. "Dataaaaa!"

The bubble burst in a wave of connections: pleasure and joy and _completion. _I was sweaty and happy and beyond speech, but the line I'd written to him in a letter the summer before - made of awesome and wrapped in gold – ping-ponged into my brain.

Wrapped in gold, indeed.

I felt him start to shrink, inside me, felt the brief pang of separation when he pulled himself out, but he didn't let go.

Instead, we lay there, still tangled - him quiet, almost tense, and me panting slightly, and exhausted.

It might have been hours or minutes before I could form words, but I think it was really only seconds until I said, "Oh… god…"

He interrupted me, "No Zoe. I am only Data." He'd used that line before, and it had made me laugh, then. It did again, but my laughter was softer… something to share only with him.

Slowly, we began the process of de-tangling. Sorting out which limbs were his and which were mine, as post-coital lassitude began to creep up on me. "Love you," I murmured. "So much." I yawned, and then giggled in embarrassment. "Sorry…"

"Do not be." Data kissed my forehead, and then my lips, and then he nudged me onto my other side, folding himself around me and resting his hand on my breast, the way we had so often started the nights in his – in _our _– bed.

"Sleep," he said softly. "Sleep for as long as you require. I will be here."

**(=A=)**

Data woke me once around nine-thirty. "Zoe, I must tend to Spot, but I will return to the bed," he assured, as if he were afraid I'd panic if I found him gone.

A while later, I stirred on my own, waking to the sound of his voice talking to the computer, and, alternately, to Spot, as well as to the enticing aroma of coffee. I looked around for the pajama top I'd been wearing the night before, but the bed was a rumpled mess, and I didn't see it on the floor.

Well, it wasn't like he hadn't seen me naked. I got up and padded across the room, pausing on my way to the bathroom to peek around the open bedroom door. "Hey," I greeted him.

"Good morning, Zoe. I have replicated coffee for you, but if you require more time it is no bother to keep it warm."

"What time is it, please?"

"Not quite eleven-thirty hours," he answered. "Was I wrong to let you sleep?"

"No, it was sweet of you." I smiled. "Coffee's good. Bathroom break would be better," I added somewhat sheepishly, as my bladder made itself known.

"I will join you at the table when you are ready," came his quiet response.

I answered nature's call, took a quick shower (and resolved to take a longer one, later) and threw on a soft green long-sleeved t-shirt and my 'weekend' jeans. Still barefoot, with my hair twisted into a messy bun, I joined Data in the main room of his quarters. "I heard something about coffee?" I teased. He glanced up from his console. "I can get it myself, if you're in the middle of something."

"I am not." He tapped a couple more commands into the computer, then pushed his chair back and got up. "I was not certain whether you wished to have breakfast here, or if you would prefer to visit the holodeck or Ten-Forward."

"I'm not really sure," I said. "Can we have coffee on the couch?" I curled into the plush furniture and he brought me a mug, and sat with me. I drank about half of it before I spoke again. "About this morning," I began, but Data interrupted me.

"Please do not tell me that it did not happen."

I nearly spit out the sip of coffee I'd just taken. Instead I swallowed carefully, set the mug down, and slid closer, so I could snuggle him. "I would never do that," I said with soft intensity. "_Ever_. Actually, I wanted to thank you for being patient with me, and for going slowly when I needed you to. Next time, I won't need you to be quite so cautious."

His arm, which had been resting across my shoulders, flexed slightly. His hand, curved around my arm, squeezed and released. "Then, you wish this aspect of our relationship to continue?"

"Don't you?" I adjusted the way I was sitting, pressed closer to him.

"I do," he said softly, and nuzzled my hair. "Very much so."

I waited a moment, just enjoying our closeness, but then I took a deep breath. "Data, there is something I have to tell you," I began, and then continued with barely a break. "While you were away, I asked Geordi to let me take the final exam for your class. I know I should have talked to you about it first, but I was afraid you'd talk me out of it."

"It is likely that I would have tried," he confirmed. "You will be missed. The class has a better dynamic when you are present. May I know your score?"

"I'm sure it's in your message queue already," I said. "Eighty-six percent, and I'm okay with that. It makes my final grade for the class a ninety-one – I know, you'd already worked that out - and we've already submitted the paperwork to Ms. Phelps."

"May I ask why you made the decision to complete the class early?"

"Do you really need to?" It was a rhetorical question, but I elaborated anyway. "When we made the decision that Geordi would grade my work, we had only just decided we were a couple. We weren't even _officially_ dating. But now? I can't be naked in your bed, and then sit across from you in class. I can't be your lover and your student."

"It is possible that we all erred in allowing the arrangement we have had," he agreed calmly. "It was an acceptable solution at the time, but given the choice between the evolution of our relationship and your presence in my tutorial, I must confess that my preference is for the former."

"Good," I said, stretching up to kiss him. "Mine is, too." I waited a beat and then declared, "Out. We should go out."

"Zoe?"

"For breakfast?" I clarified. "Well, more like a late lunch, now, but still…"

"I must shut down the program I was working with," Data said.

"I need to do something with my hair, and put shoes on," I added. Reluctantly, I left the circle of his arm, and recycled my coffee mug. "Ten minutes?"

"That will be acceptable."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45273.04**

**(Tuesday, 09 April 2368, 22:27 hours, ship's time) **

"Jab! Cross! Jab, jab! Cross!" Captain Picard's voice instructed me from the other side of the bag I'd dubbed 'Mr. Hefty.' A month into my accidental boxing lessons and I was actually making the bag move enough that it had to be held. I did the combination of punches he'd called for, and felt him push to steady the bag.

"Was that okay?" I asked, stepping away from the range of the heavy bag's arc. "I think I'm a little tired tonight." With rehearsals for _Little Women_ under way, both the officers' poker game and our boxing sessions had been shifted two hours later, and as this was the first night of the new schedule, I hadn't yet adapted.

"You're doing very well," he said. "How do _you_ feel about your progress?"

I sat down on the bench, pulled a glove off, and picked up the pink water bottle that had become usual for me, once these sessions had become a regular thing. After drinking some of the cool water, and using the time to formulate a response, I answered. "I'm never going to be a competitive boxer, but coming here and whaling on Mr. Hefty has really helped me release my anger over… everything." I was treading too far into mushy stuff, and I was pretty sure the captain wasn't comfortable with that, so I added. "Aside from that? It's kind of empowering."

He surprised me by sitting next to me. "I think you underestimate your potential as a competitor. Mr. Data says you're a swimmer and a surfer, yes?"

I nodded, and then remembered who I was sharing the bench with and added aloud, "Yes, sir. This is the first sport I've ever tried that doesn't involve water of some kind."

"Do you surf competitively?"

"Only in local meets. I'm decent, but not exceptional."

"Do you enjoy the competition?"

I grinned. "Sometimes. I mean, I like to win, obviously – who doesn't? – but, I like the challenge, also."

"And do you find boxing challenging?"

I had the impression he was leading me toward some resolution. "Yes. It's learning new ways of using my muscles, and I can see how, if I were boxing with another person, instead of our silent friend here, there would be strategy involved as well."

The captain's deep hazel eyes focused on me, as if he were analyzing both my answer and my character. "That's quite an astute observation." He took a beat, apparently coming to a decision. "If you would care to continue working with me, Zoe, I invite you to meet me again next week, when we will spar."

"Spar?" I asked, not quite believing him. "As in… me… and you?"

"I may be old, but I'm not dead yet," he snarked.

"I don't think you're old; I'm just not sure what makes me worth your time. I mean, you're the captain of the _flagship_, and I'm just some… student… who didn't even want to be here, at first."

"You are a student," he agreed. "And you're correct that I typically distance myself from my crew, let alone the civilians who live and work on my ship. However, you are _also _in a relationship with my second officer, a relationship that is, apparently, responsible for significant progress in his quest to understand the human condition."

I blushed. "I was pretty certain I was just dating him, not, you know, expanding his mind."

"And I am certain you don't really believe that."

"Sometimes I do," I shrugged, embarrassed. "Most of the time, Data is just Data. Sometimes though, there are these moments when I remember who he is – who you all are – and I freak out a little."

He chuckled his response. "I see. Does that mean you do _not_ wish to spar with me?"

I flashed him my most innocent grin. "I thought we already were, sir."

_That_ earned me a barking laugh from him. "And _that_ is why you are worth my time," he said. But his mood shifted almost immediately into something more serious. "I'm afraid I have to cut this evening short. I've been asked to speak at the memorial service for Ambassador Sarek, and I have a eulogy to prepare."

"Data mentioned that you and the ambassador were… friends, of a sort…" I said softly. "I'm very sorry for your loss, sir. I only met him for two seconds, and _I've_ been sad since hearing the news."

"You met him?"

"When he and Lady Perrin were aboard a couple years ago. Data's quartet played, and he graciously arranged for me to be part of the audience. Lady Perrin was funny and kind, and helped me not be nervous, and the ambassador gave me some unsolicited advice."

"Oh?"

"He mentioned that his son had played the piano in his youth, but gave it up as an adult. When he heard I was a musician, he encouraged me to stick with it, even if I never make music a career."

"Wise advice, don't you think?"

"Oh, definitely, sir." He didn't respond, so I added. "If you can really afford to sacrifice your workouts just for me, I'd love to spar with you."

"I'll expect to see you here at twenty-hundred hours, next Wednesday, then, Ms. Harris."

"I'll be here with bells on, Captain Picard."

The hint of a smile spread across his face, and his eyes sparkled just a little. "Dismissed," he said with a touch of what I had learned, by then, was gruff affection, but before I could return my gloves to the replicator, he called me back, "Wait one moment, Zoe."

"Sir?" I asked.

"If Mr. Data were to invite you to attend Ambassador Sarek's memorial, would you care to attend?"

I didn't have to think about it. "Yes, sir, I would."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45274.21**

**(Wednesday, 10 April 2368, 08:43 hours, ship's time) **

Data had contacted me by comm the just before midnight to invite me on the trip to Vulcan so I was surprised when my mother came into my bedroom before nine in the morning.

"Hey, kiddo, you awake?" she asked, as she came to sit on the edge of my bed.

"Kind of," I answered. Not having a class three mornings a week meant I was staying up far too late either reading or memorizing my lines. "What's up?"

"The ship's protocol officer just called to 'ensure Ms. Harris's attendance' in a briefing tonight at six-thirty. Why is Lt. Prerr asking for your company?"

"Lt. Prerr?" I asked blankly.

"_Tlassam_ Prerr," she explained. "The ship's protocol officer?"

"Oh. _Oh!_"

"Zoe?" My mother's tone was bordering on frustration.

"Data comm'd after you were in bed last night, inviting me to accompany him to the memorial for Ambassador Sarek. I told him I'd love to go, as long as you don't object." I eyed my mother through bleary eyes. "You don't, do you?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"Mom?" I was honestly perplexed.

"Ms. Phelps called me on Friday to confirm that I knew you'd tested out of your math tutorial."

With everything that had happened since I'd taken the final, I'd forgotten to tell her. I sat up in my bed. "Friday… it happened on Friday, and then Data came home in the middle of the night and… Mom… please don't be upset, but even with Geordi grading my work, I can_not_ be in that classroom."

My mother gave me the kind of look that _only_ mothers are capable of executing well. The kind that goes right through to your soul, and reads ever secret you think you're keeping. "You slept with him."

"Technically, Mom, I've been sleeping with him since my birthday." She arched an eyebrow at me but I pretended not to notice. "But if you mean that we had sex, then yes, we did."

I expected her to yell at me. I expected that she might lecture. Instead, she pulled me into a rough hug, squeezing me tight, and then letting me go, though she reached for my hands, and I let her hold me that way. "Oh, Zoificus. I wish you'd waited."

"Mom, I'm over the age of consent. Seventeen is legal on Earth and Centaurus, and every predominantly human world in the Federation." I paused, and added, "And Data would never hurt me. He would never take advantage. He couldn't. He _can't._"

She released one of my hands so she could tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. I resisted the urge to do the same to her. "I know that. It's just going to be much more difficult now for you to be away from him for six months."

"It's not going to be all sunshine and roses for him, either," I pointed out.

"No, I expect it won't be."

"So may I go to Vulcan?"

She was quiet for a long moment and then she sighed. "I don't think I have the right to give or withhold permission anymore, kiddo. As you said, you're seventeen. You're emancipated. You've been honoring your promise to be home on school nights, and even though I wish you'd talked to me, I'm pleased with your solution to the issue of being Data's student as well as his…"

"Girlfriend?" I finished the sentence for her, so she wouldn't have to say 'lover.'

"Mmhmm."

We were both quiet then, each trapped in our own thoughts. Finally, I asked. "Mom?"

"Yes, darling?"

"What does one wear to a Vulcan memorial service for a Federation icon?"

My mother laughed. "I have no idea."

"Guess that's what the protocol officer is for."

"I guess so," she agreed."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45284.05**

**(Saturday, 13 April 2368, 23:06 hours, ship's time)**

**(The 10****th**** day of ****T'keKhuti, 17 minutes before the 18****th**** hour, Vulcan time (estimated)) **

By the time Data and I had returned to his quarters on the _Enterprise_, it was sometime between eleven and midnight, at least according to the clock I typically lived by, and I was tired enough that all I wanted to do was kick off my shoes, strip off the dressy black linen outfit I'd been wearing all day, and crawl into bed.

Lying there in low light while Data tended to Spot and checked his messages to see if there was anything he had to handle before the beginning of the next day's alpha shift, I reflected upon everything I'd just experienced.

Vulcan funerals may have been elegant, private, low-key affairs, but the main event of the day had been a very public memorial service designed to honor Sarek's contribution to the Federation as a whole, not just to remember his life on Vulcan.

I had catalogued twenty-three eulogies before I'd lost count, and those were only the ones in languages I sort of understood. Translation had been provided for those attendees who weren't tricked out with Universal Translators of their own, but while the interpreters were fairly good, they never quite caught the nuances of the original speakers.

The actual memorial had been four hours long.

Then there had been a reception.

And then there had been a dinner.

I'd enjoyed most of it. Despite my initial shyness when meeting Data – I had, after all, been petitioning him for a place in the class I'd just tested out of – I generally enjoyed meeting new people, and I was happy to get to use a little bit of the Vulcan I'd been studying for three years, the latter two of which had been on the _Enterprise_.

Lady Perrin had remembered me. That had been a pleasant surprise. She had really good advisors, I think.

Rather than being seated all together, Captain Picard and his officers had been dispersed among several tables at the last event. It was sheer luck that had placed Data and me at the same table as Admiral Nechayev and Ambassador Uhura. The former had adopted me as an affectionate niece when I'd spent part of my summer as her nephew's guest in San Francisco, and the latter had been a hero of mine for as long as I could remember.

Only the fact that I hadn't wished to embarrass or disappoint my charming and handsome companion kept me from fan-girling all over the older woman, who was just as much of a legend as the ambassador we had come together to remember.

The mattress dipping slightly from Data's weight as he joined me in bed drew me from my contemplation. "Hey…"

"You have been unusually quiet since we transported back to the ship," Data observed. "Are you merely tired, or is something wrong?"

"I _am_ tired," I said, rolling over so that I was lying on my side, facing him, with my head propped on my hand, "but also… I think I was actually a little bit star-struck today."

"Star-struck?"

"Mmm. Yes. I've been attending parties with my father – if not hosted by my father – practically since I could walk. I thought I was used to rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. Or at least the elite and illustrious. But today? Today I was at a memorial for one legend, and sharing a dinner table with three others, one of whom I'm in an intimate relationship with. It's a lot to take in."

"I am not a legend, Zoe."

"Aren't you? You're third in command of the _flagship. _You've got enough fruit salad on your chest to feed a small colony for a year. You're a Hero of the Federation." I wasn't actually ticking things off on my fingers, but it felt like I was. "You're -"

"I am your confidante, your partner, your lover, and the one who is devoted to you."

His words made me melt inside, but the intensity with which he spoke them also made other feelings stir. I moved so that I was above him, one hand on either side of his body, and I lowered my face to his for a kiss.

His tongue danced with mine, and arousal chased my fatigue away. Impulsively, I moved again, straddling him. I felt certain parts of his anatomy twitch beneath me, and I wriggled playfully.

Data's yellow eyes grew slightly wider. "Zoe... if you are tired."

"Not _that_ tired," I countered.

"Zoe…" he said again, but he made my name into the most wondrous sound in the universe. He lifted his hands and cupped my breasts, teasing them with his fingers and thumbs, then lifted his head to take first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth.

I shivered, and my breathing became irregular for a moment, but I managed to remind him, "No… no teeth." I leaned forward, my weight divided between hands and knees and balanced by the man I loved.

The slight creasing and un-creasing of his eyebrows was enough to confirm that he remembered my list of warnings. His mouth kept working at my breasts, kissing, licking, sucking, but his hands moved to my waist, and then to my backside, kneading and caressing.

My experience with sex was limited enough that I'd never been on top before, and even though I was ready, and could feel that _he_ was ready, I wasn't sure how to accomplish my goal. "Data," I asked softly. "Show me how to…"

He released my right nipple and said, "Lift slightly, then rock backwards in small increments until…"

"_There._"

"Yes…" his hands were lightly gripping my hips, guiding me as he pushed upward and into me. "Now, we rock together…"

I took a moment to reach back and release clip holding my hair. I tossed the metal and plastic contraption aside, and my hair tumbled around my shoulders. I saw Data's expression soften, but I didn't comment, just started to move on top of him.

His face, and the small sounds he made as we learned each other's rhythms, matched them, and improvised new ones, told me what I needed to know: he may not have experienced pleasure the same way I did, but he had his own form. Eyes fixed on mine, lips parted, he seemed so open, so… vulnerable.

I wondered if my face showed the same things.

My climax was quiet but intense, built slowly from my deepest center, and I felt his release mix with mine.

Spent, I disengaged just enough so that I could collapse on top of him, and his arms came around me, holding me there. I lifted my head a bit, stretched to share another kiss with him. "Thank you," I whispered. "For the day, and for _this_. For… us."

Data let go of me with one hand, stroking it through my hair, apparently wordless. I closed my eyes and listened to the _thrum_ of his internal systems, let it pulse through me.

Finally he said, "When we took this step last week, and our relationship changed irrevocably, I neglected to tell you that I had never experienced a second time with a partner. Activation of my sexuality programming always signaled the end of any potential relationship." His words were matter-of-fact, but his voice was uneven. "You have taught me that our second time is a mere beginning."

There was only one response I could make, three words that were so often used too casually, but when I used them with him went deeper than I knew how to express: "I love you."

We lay quietly in the near-darkness as I grew muzzier and muzzier. Eventually we changed positions, and when I fell asleep I was facing him, our arms twined and hands clasped, legs tangled together.

I'm pretty sure he was as loathe to let go as I was.

* * *

**Notes: **Confession: I almost titled this chapter "FINALLY!" but ultimately decided not to.

For Data's reaction to the events of this chapter, please see the one-shot _Carte Blanche_. Note: It's rated M.

Special thanks to **ReLive4Love** and **saya4haji** for their insight (in general) and advice (on this chapter) as applicable, and to my non-biological brother **wintermute75** who usually lets me read chapters to him so I can hear the flow of dialogue and fix phrasing (and typos) and who totally didn't mock me when I couldn't read the first-person sex scenes out loud.

The away mission Zoe refers to is from Unification I &amp; II, when Picard and Data went to the Romulan homeworld. Tlassam Prerr is my own invention; you'll get to actually meet him in a future installment. The Vulcan calendar does NOT mesh with the Terran calendar AT ALL, so I picked month in the same general time of year. Go with me on this.

There are actually NO canon episodes that take place in the range of Stardates that coincides with April, 2368, so it seemed appropriate to put this chapter there.

Zoe's line about 'made of awesome and wrapped in gold' comes from the last chapter of _Hello From Earth..._

I am in the final stages of editing a collection of holiday essays for publication via Amazon's CreateSpace, so the next chapter may not come before December 15th, and may be closer to Christmas, but there's a one-shot coming (hopefully before then) that explores the events of _this_ chapter from Data's point of view.

Thank you all for reading. I have the best readers on ffnet, and I appreciate every one of you.


	23. Divertissement

**_Disclaimer:_****_Star Trek: The Next Generation_****_, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

**_Continuity Note: _****_Picks up a few hours after the one-shot _****_Carte Blanche_****_, in the same morning._**

* * *

**Divertissement**

_(__noun, a minor __entertainment or diversion_, _an interlude.)_

**Stardate 45285.49**

**(Sunday, 14 April 2368, 11:47 hours, ship's time)**

I turned off the shower, bundled my hair into a bath towel, and wrapped a second one around my body before sliding my feet into the terry-cloth slippers I'd started keeping in Data's quarters. The simple gold chain necklace I'd worn to Vulcan the day before was still around my neck, and it was beginning to irritate me.

As I exited the bathroom, I thought I heard the murmur of voices coming from the main room, but the bedroom door was still open a Spot-width, so I assumed my android boyfriend had merely been cooing to his cat, and padded out to join him. "Data, I forgot to take my necklace off, and I can't manage the clasp, can you…"

I froze, because not only was Data _not_ talking to Spot, but he was also _not _alone, and the person who was chatting with him was someone with whom I was familiar. _Intimately_ familiar. It wasn't going to be awkward… was it?

"Hey, Zo.'" The shaggy hair and insouciant grin hadn't changed, but there was something a little darker, a little older about his black eyes. Eyes that were lingering _not_ on mine. "Interesting outfit."

"Tev, what are you doing here? I mean what are you doing _here_? In Data's quarters." I glanced at the suspiciously quiet android. "You might have warned me we had company before I came out here dressed in…" I looked down at myself. "I'll be back."

I retreated to the bedroom and got dressed as quickly as I could. Because I was in Data's quarters and we were still in the stage of our relationship that involved being on our best behavior, I even took time to toss my towels into the laundry unit. In my own space, I'd probably have left them on the bed or the floor. Well, no, not really. But I'd have been tempted.

Data came in when I was almost finished and wordlessly removed the necklace I'd initially asked about. I turned to face him, and he must have seen the accusing glare on my face, because he pulled me into a loose embrace, his crossed wrists resting against the small of my back. "I apologize for not warning you that the Mairaj boy was in our quarters," he said softly.

'_Our' quarters? _I made a mental note to question him about his choice of words at a later time. "'The Mairaj boy' has a first name." I teased gently, before I tilted my head back for a kiss. "Why _didn't_ you warn me?"

"I had a limited amount of time that I could reasonably allow him to remain in the corridor without being rude. I chose to use that time to cover the painting I completed this morning."

Viewing that painting had been the first thing I'd done when I'd rolled out of bed that morning. It was… taken purely artistically it was brilliant. Data had captured his subject in a naked – both figuratively and emotionally – and vulnerable moment. But there was a whole other impact from it for me, because I was the subject he'd put on that canvas. It was my form – it was _me_ \- just after we'd made love the night before, surrounded by his sheets.

Data, being Data, was more concerned about my assessment of his artisanship, rather than whether or not I minded being a nude model. I had led him back to bed to show him precisely what I'd thought, which was why I had been showering when it was nearly lunchtime.

"Oh," I said. Was I blushing? I hoped I wasn't blushing. "Is he still out there?"

"He is."

_Nope, not awkward at __**all**_.

"Did he happen to mention why he's on the ship, or how long he's staying?"

"He is on the ship because he was on Vulcan, and when the _Enterprise_ arrived for Ambassador Sarek's memorial, he took advantage of the opportunity to travel back to the _Berlin_ and see friends at the same time."

"Okay, fair point." I took a deep breath. "Look, it's not like he didn't know we were… 'dating' isn't really the right word anymore is it? But anyway. He knew you and I were a thing. This doesn't have to be weird unless we let it be."

"That is true. However, you are wearing one of my shirts. I can only assume you chose it to 'make a statement.'"

_He'd noticed that? Of course he'd noticed that._ "Do you mind?"

"I do not." He bent his head, and breathed his next words into my ear. "Seeing you in my clothing is aesthetically appealing in a manner I have not been able to quantify."

I laughed softly. "If that painting is anything to judge by, I think you find an equally aesthetic appeal in seeing me _out_ of your clothing. Or out of any clothing."

He managed a credible version of a smug smile. "Is that not 'how it should be?'"

"It is," I said, "_exactly_ how it should be."

We walked out of the bedroom together.

T'vek was leaning against Data's console pretending to be nonchalant, but I caught him looking closely at what I'd chosen to wear, and I could tell he knew my shirt hadn't been designed for a woman.

He stood up straight when we re-entered the living area. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your morning," he said to both of us. "I went to your mom's first," he continued addressing only me, "and she said you'd be here. But it didn't occur to me that…" He trailed off. "You're not living together, are you?"

"Zoe stays here on weekends," Data said softly. "Perhaps it would be wise if we moved to a new venue. We typically have a mid-day meal in Ten-Forward on Sundays. My experience has been that humanoid males of your age are 'always' hungry, and Zoe skipped breakfast. Would you care to join us?"

"I'm hungry even if Tev isn't," I added. "And Guinan's mochas are better than the replicated ones."

For a moment, I thought my… ex… was going to decline, but I met his eyes, and he accepted the challenge. "I could eat," he agreed.

**(=A=)**

The lounge that occupied the forward section of deck ten was abuzz when we walked in, unusually so for a Sunday, but the reason became clear almost immediately: the brown-skinned, white-haired woman sitting alone at a table in center of the huge window. She wasn't holding court, as other visiting dignitaries often had, but was serenely sipping something from a mug.

Guinan greeted us at the door. "T'vek, welcome back to the _Enterprise_," she said to our companion. "I hope your parents are well."

"Thank you, they are," he answered. "It's crazy in here today."

The enigmatic bartender surveyed her domain. "Is it?" she asked. "I thought it was merely full of energy. Data, Zoe, I believe the Ambassador has been waiting for you."

"Forgive me," Data answered before I could say anything, "but we did not have plans to meet today."

"Nevertheless, I'm fairly certain she'll welcome the two of you at her table."

"Tev's with us," I pointed out.

"I'm certain she'll welcome him, too."

I was half-expecting that Admiral Uhura would politely decline our request to join her, but the wrinkled cheeks spread into a soft, sincere smile, and her dark eyes sparkled with contained mischief. "Commander Data, Ms. Harris, you are just the company I was hoping for. Who is this handsome young man with you?"

T'vek was both goggling and blushing – I hadn't ever seen him do either, before – but he recovered himself (with the assistance of my elbow meeting his ribs) and said, "I'm Stevek Maraij, ma'am. It's an honor to meet you."

She chuckled at his formality. "Yes, I'm sure it is. I'll tell you what, I'll overlook the fact that you called me 'ma'am' if you'll sit beside me, and help balance the conversation when your friends forget they're not the only people in the room."

Data and I shared a look. There had been a moment at the dinner on Vulcan when it _had_ felt like we were the only people there. "Hmm," he said, in the way that meant he was noting something for later analysis.

"We were _not_ that bad," I protested, dropping into the chair that Data had pulled out for me, the one across from the ambassador. "Were we?"

Her expression softened. "Not really. And even if you were, no one would have minded. The Vulcans would have rejoiced in your happiness and the rest of us would merely have felt a bit wistful about finding our own soulmates."

I could almost hear Data spinning over the word soulmate, but I had to ask, "Vulcans rejoice about that?"

"Yes, of course they do. When children are bonded, it is in the hope they will grow to find the kind of match in each other that you and Mr. Data have. When they recognize such a connection in others, they celebrate the strength of the union."

I wanted to hear more, to ask exactly how 'matched' she thought Data and I were, but I was also cognizant of T'vek's presence. We'd broken up more than a year before, and spent time together in San Francisco the previous summer, but somehow his visit to the _Enterprise _was awkward, rather than easy, and we hadn't even had five minutes of actual conversation.

But he surprised me. "My parents had that happen," T'vek said softly. "They met when my father was doing an internship with a design firm in San Francisco, while Mother was doing an enrichment course at Starfleet Academy, and the first time she brought him to Vulcan, people kept quietly congratulating them on their bond."

"That's really lovely," I blurted.

"Indeed," Data put in. "Many telepathic cultures have bonding rituals or special recognition for romantic partners who are connected in that way. The Aguarians of Okeanos Three have such a strong bond that if one member of a pair sings a song, the other member will echo it from one-hundred-eighty degrees around the planet."

"I've heard performances of their songs," the ambassador said. "When they do quartets, with two bonded pairs of singers harmonizing, it's quite haunting." She glanced at T'vek and me, adding, as if she wasn't sure we knew, "The Aguarians are humanoid in appearance but closer to Earth's cetaceans in biology."

Tev laughed. "You don't have to tell Zoe that; she's got a mental catalogue of every world where surfing is a thing."

"You surf?" she asked, turning her focus back to me.

"Zoe excels at the sport," Data answered before I could. "I have had the privilege of watching her in a friendly competition."

I suddenly felt as though Data and Tev were trying to demonstrate who knew more about me. From Tev, this was almost expected. But from Data? Maybe I was imagining it.

"I mostly grew up on Centaurus. Gran runs the family farm, and Dad has a 'cottage' at Beach Haven," I explained. "I was practically born in the ocean."

As if they had rehearsed it, Data and T'vek said at the same time, "Zoe's parents believe she may be half-mermaid."

I glanced from my current partner to my ex and back, and wasn't sure if I wanted to burst out laughing or hide under the table.

Ambassador Uhura, at least, seemed to sense my discomfort, as she changed the subject slightly: "Beach Haven is lovely; but if your father lives there, he must be Maestro Harris, yes?" I nodded and she continued. "Then you and I are actually old friends."

I stared at her, "We are?"

"Mmhmm. Though you may not remember. There was a party at the Federation embassy on Nordstral, and the maestro brought his then-five-year-old daughter as his escort."

I'd been dragged to so many parties and gatherings as a child, that they all sort of blurred together. "The CEO of Nordstral Pharmaceuticals had a son about my age," I recalled, letting the words come slowly as the memory unwound. "They made us pose for all these pictures holding hands, and his were sticky. I remember that all I wanted to do was curl up under a table and color."

"You fell asleep in the cloak room," she reminded gently.

"Oh, right! Was it winter? I remember that a lot of people had been wearing fur – real fur – and it was so soft, and warm."

"It's _always _winter on Nordstral," the ambassador said. "Your father wanted to scold you, but you were so precious that the Kitka chief insisted he let you sleep."

I grimaced at the memory. "I woke up with all these strange people staring down at me, like some runty version of Sleeping Beauty. But the chief used the opportunity to invite Dad and me to stay a while. We did – and I had a really good time in the caves with the fishermen, but we could only stay for three days. Dad still owes me a proper look at a Kraken."

"The Nordstral Kraken are not a species people typically wish to encounter in person," Data pointed out. "They have been known to eat people who stray too close to their territory."

T'vek shuddered. "You and your sea creatures, Zoe. Are you still working with the grace sharks?"

"They're almost ready for pupping, and after that the pups will be moved into separate tanks, and then the whole family will be rehomed on Pacifica." Answering in detail, instead of simply saying 'yes' or 'no' was something I must've picked up from Data, and I blushed faintly at that realization. "It'll be about eight… weeks…." I stumbled over the last two words.

"Zoe, are you alright?" It was Data, always solicitous, always aware.

"I just realized… I won't be here. I'll be at Idyllwild, and I'll miss it." I turned to him, knowing it was rude to ignore the ambassador and T'vek, and not caring. Later, I would realize that I was having yet another reaction to what had happened with Lore, but in that moment, all I knew was that my head was swimming, and I was suddenly terrified about what would happen with Data and me when I left the ship in six weeks.

"Do you wish to leave?" he asked softly.

I shook my head slightly. "I'll explain later," I told him, in a voice just as soft as his.

"Zo', are you okay?"

Tev's question brought me back into focus. I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said. "Yesterday was a really long day, and I think it's catching up to me, is all."

Uhura reached across the table and touched my hand. "Yesterday was fraught with emotion. From what I could tell in our brief meeting at dinner, you handled it with poise and grace, and I should shoo you away to get some rest, but I'm curious: when you say Idyllwild, do you mean the theater company?"

I nodded, and answered, "Yes. I'll be joining them for their fall season and tour, and then returning to the _Enterprise_ to finish my senior year."

"And then off to The Martian, like your father?"

I shook my head. "I auditioned, but I'm leaning more toward a proper university. My top three right now are Yale, NYU, and Caprica University."

"Caprica and NYU are both excellent schools, and someone with a love of theater and music would excel at either. Why is Yale your first choice?"

"There's an interdisciplinary pilot program: Theatre and Social Justice. It's a double major – theatre studies with political science, history, or sociology. The concept of learning how entertainment can be used to provoke social change is something I'm really interested in."

"And the fact that you're dating a decorated officer…?"

"… is an influence," I said, "of course. It's next to impossible to be on this ship, with these officers around, and _not_ feel drawn to do something worthy. But if you know my father, then you _also_ know my grandmother is Irene Harris. Activism runs in my blood as much as the arts do."

The ambassador laughed, and it was a warm and throaty sound. "Well said, Zoe. If you manage to keep that passion and temper it with the education and experience you seek, I suspect we'll be hearing your name quite a lot." She turned to T'vek then. "What about you? I know you were on Vulcan, but not at the memorial…"

"My mother is posted to the _Berlin_," Tev explained. "But she was here until the January before last – Zoe and I met in Data's math tutorial."

"T'vek asked to reroute his transport back to the _Berlin _by coming aboard the _Enterprise_," Data explained. "The math tutorial he referred to was comprised of a select group of top-performing students. Zoe, of course, is no longer part of the class."

"No, she wouldn't be," Uhura agreed, and I had the impression she understood far more than she let on. "But right now I want to hear T'vek's side of things – is the nickname taken from the Betazoid children's series?" she added. "Mairaj is a Betazoid surname."

"Yeah," he said, "I mean, yes, ma'am. I mean…" he grinned helplessly. "Who wouldn't want to be a Pirate of the Opal Sea?"

Again she laughed. "I know many young people who feel the same. So, you were on Vulcan for… what? Your Academy interview?"

"Actually no. I was interviewing with the architecture school on the island."

"I didn't realize they'd rebuilt since the last temblors shook the foundations of the last incarnation." Uhura smiled. "It isn't logical."

"Isn't it?" T'vek countered. "Where better to study architecture than in an environment where constant innovation is required. The new school also serves as an adjunct campus for the Vulcan Mining Institute."

"Was your interview fruitful?" Data asked, re-joining the discussion. It wasn't unusual for him to take the part of an observer during conversations, and I had the distinct impression he was analyzing my answers and behavior.

"I think so. It pleases my mother that I want to study on her homeworld, and my father is just happy I'm not planning to actually _be_ a pirate."

"I am certain Kenash is quite relieved that you plan to become a 'respectable member of society,'" Data observed, with a surprising amount of wryness in his tone.

Uhura favored the three of us with her warm smile, but then she pushed her chair back from the table. "Please excuse me," she said. "I'm not as young as I used to be, and yesterday was a long day for me as well. Commander Data, Ms. Harris, I hope we'll spend more time together while I'm here. Mr. Mairaj, could I trouble you to escort me back to my cabin?"

T'vek said something to the effect of being honored, as he got up and offered the ambassador his arm. She wasn't as frail as she was pretending to be; I was sure. Data and I left soon afterward, heading back to his quarters, after I declined his invitation for a walk in the arboretum.

"Are you unwell?" he asked, as we entered his so-familiar rooms.

I shook my head. "Just overtired, overstimulated, and a little bit overwhelmed. Would you… I know you have work you want to do. Would you mind if I stayed here and took a nap while you work?"

"You do not 'have to ask' about such things," he told me. "My home is your home." I stepped close to him for a lingering hug followed by a brief kiss. He nuzzled my hair, but after a moment he asked, "Do you wish me to wake you in time for you to meet Ensign Barnett at the pool?"

"I don't think I have the energy to swim today," I said. "Wake me when it's time for me to go back to Mom's?"

"As you wish," he said.

"What I _wish_ is that I didn't have to go back and forth. It's… it's getting harder, shifting between being my own person and being her daughter – her _child_. I love my mother but…" I stopped myself. "I'm sorry. I really _am_ tired, and I have no filter right now."

But his yellow eyes regarded me from within a serious countenance. "There is no need to apologize. I will contact Ensign Barnett for you."

I pulled away from him, but reached to squeeze and release his hand before I really left his space. "Thank you, Data," I said.

"Pleasant dreams, Zoe," he replied.

I went into his (our?) bedroom, stripped off most of my clothing, and curled up in his (our?) bed, but all I could think about was that I was leaving in six weeks, and my mother was right: leaving was going to be so much harder than I thought. It wasn't even about the act of sex, _per se_, but the increased connection, the incredible intimacy we shared.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45293.50**

**(Wednesday, 17 April 2368, 10:07 hours, ship's time)**

"You're late," T'vek accused as I dropped into the chair opposite his in the lower decks mess (port side, aft) where we used to meet some mornings before class. "Are you nervous?" He was teasing me, I knew, and it wasn't helpful.

"Kind of," I said. "But I'm late because I got the official notification from The Martian, and there was someone who had to be the first to know." I'd actually been avoiding him since our lunch with Ambassador Uhura several days before, using the excuses of a session with Counselor Troi, school, play rehearsal, and various other things, until finally, I couldn't delay any further.

"Data." It wasn't a question.

"He was my music theory tutor before we were anything else," I said, not sure why I was feeling defensive. "He coached me for my audition, made sure I was note-perfect. He deserved to be told."

"He's also your soulmate," my shaggy-haired table companion added softly.

"Yeah," I said, lowering my eyes. "He is." I left the table long enough to replicate two mugs of mint tea and a couple of egg and cheese breakfast sandwiches. "Here," I said, placing the tray between us on the table. "I was afraid you were going to be jealous and weird."

"I was a little freaked out when you walked out in a towel the other day," he said. "I didn't realize… the last I heard you two had just started dating, and then I saw how _comfortable_ you are with him. Zo' we were friends before we were anything else. We were friends _after_ everything else. I'm hurt that I had no idea you and Data had gotten this far."

His liquid black eyes were huge in his face. I could see the hurt in every line of him. "Oh, Tev –." I reached across the table and covered his warm, strong hand with mine. "I didn't… I felt weird telling you because we were so close, and I know I was a little jealous last summer, hearing about your _harem_."

"It's not a harem," he protested, chuckling. "It's not even really a string of girls. I mean it is, but one at a time, because no one fits right."

That was more in line with the boy I'd known. "But you didn't say anything…"

"It was easier, when you were with Theo, and seemingly happy, to let you think I was a total playboy."

"Theo and I were never serious."

"No. But that's because you'd already started turning toward Data." His words were matter-of-fact, but he was rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. He stopped, all of a sudden, though. "There's something else. Something dark."

I pulled my hand away from his. "Are you reacting to rumors or getting that from my thoughts?"

"The latter. You and I still have a sort of connection."

"From the mind-meld. I know. I felt it… When Sarek died and all the Vulcans on the ship were mourning, I felt it a little, too." I nibbled at the breakfast sandwich in front of me. "I can't talk about this here. Come with me?"

"Where to?"

"Data's. He's in class right now, and he won't mind."

"Are you _sure_ you don't live with him?"

I laughed. "I sort of almost do, I guess. I'm there as much as I'm anywhere else, and… his space is where I feel safest."

I waited while he recycled our mostly-untouched food, and then I led him back to Data's quarters using a route that wasn't frequently traveled – dating the second officer had been instructive in more ways than I could count – where I sent a message to my boyfriend's padd before settling on the couch.

"Zoe, you're starting to scare me," Tev said, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. It was Data's side, but his position was an echo of mine: cross-legged, back against the arm of the furniture.

"You know how I was convinced Lore was stalking me last summer?" I began, and my friend nodded. "Well, I ran into him again on the way home – I'm pretty sure he was the real perpetrator of the bombing at Starbase Twelve…" I told him the rest; how I'd stayed with Data for a week afterward, how we'd started getting closer, and then were sort of not-dating after that first tongue-stud-releasing kiss. "And then I was part of the mission to plant the Melona colony."

"I remember you telling me you were going, but what does that have to do with Lore?"

I was quiet looking for the right words, choosing and discarding several versions of what happened, until he began to get antsy, and I finally just blurted. "Lore raped me."

"WHAT?"

"Lore… he was with the Crystalline Entity, and he grabbed me from Melona after the killer snowflake did its work. He took me to his ship – it was cold and broken down, and he… he was awful. I was with… I was there for three days, and when the snowflake - he called it 'Phil' – when the snowflake shattered, he had me pinned to the deck, naked, and he… raped me."

"How did you get away?"

"He left my communicator when he beamed away. I think… some part of him was aware that he'd gone too far."

"Data rescued you?"

"He did. He… he's the one who held me together, _after_. I cried on him, and yelled at him, and once during a flashback, I even hit him – hurt my hand, in the process – but – he was my anchor. _Is _my anchor. We were already close, before it happened. We were already pretty physical. But after… he and Mom alternated staying with me day and night the first week. I couldn't sleep alone. I _still _have nightmares, though they're getting farther apart."

"Wow," T'vek said. "Wow. I wish I'd known, and at the same time I'm glad I didn't." He was silent for a long while, but I could tell he was processing everything I'd said. When he finally spoke he voice was low and serious. "I can't imagine what I would have done if I'd been here," he said. "I'm glad Data could give you the support you needed."

"He always has," I said. "I don't know why we fit, but we do, and now I'm terrified when I leave the ship I'll lose him."

I expected T'vek to agree with me. I expected him to be at a loss for what to say. He surprised me on both counts. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Zoe."

"You don't?"

"Uh-uh. If he's been everything that you say he has. If he's as all-in with your relationship as it seems like he is – I mean, Zoe – come on. I was in his class. I've seen the way he is with people, and he was always different with you. Besides, the Commander Data _I _know wouldn't date a student, even one who's technically legal, if it wasn't real, and you wouldn't be kinda-sorta living with him, if he didn't mean for it to last."

I grinned at him through misty eyes. Telling him what happened had been harder than I anticipated and I was emotional from it. "You think?"

"Yeah," he said, "I do."

We moved to the table, and I replicated grilled cheese and avocado sandwiches and glasses of iced tea. The food and the less intimate seating helped lighten the mood, and soon enough we were laughing as we played catch-up.

Tev and I stayed in Data's quarters talking until I really _did_ have to leave for a class, exchanging a hug that was only slightly awkward right before we separated outside the turbo-lifts. He was going to see his art mentor, and I was going to the school deck, but before the doors to my lift closed, he asked, "So, what was on the chip?"

"Hold," I instructed the computer. "What?"

"The chip in your tongue stud. Did you ever find out what was on it?"

I shook my head. "No… there were… issues."

"Don't you think you should?"

The boy had a point, and I didn't mean the one on either of his ears.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45298.29**

**(Friday, 19 April 2368, 04:14 hours, ship's time) **

I couldn't sleep.

From the moment T'vek had asked me what was on the chip Lore had stuck in my tongue, the question had been stuck in my head.

The tongue stud I'd actually chosen to replace the one Lore had… installed… was, I knew, in a small container in Data's medicine cabinet, 'in case you wish to insert it again later.' I'd assured him that I had no plans to do so, but he had quietly insisted that it be kept.

What I didn't know was where he and Geordi had stashed the other stud, or, more specifically, the data solid that had been stored within it. Mostly, I tried to forget it had ever existed. I didn't like remembering Data with Lore's personality overshadowing his. I didn't like that I'd had to deactivate him. I _really _didn't like that the events of that night had been one more time that something Lore-related had ended up catapulting my relationship with Data forward.

In my heart, I knew we weren't together _only _because of Lore.

But late at night, when I was sleeping alone in my bed in my mother's quarters, sometimes I worried.

I _had_ to know what was on that chip, and I was pretty certain Data hadn't dropped his research.

I reached for the comm-badge on my nightstand, activated it, and asked, "Computer, tell me the location of Lt. Commander Data."

_Lt. Commander Data is in the cybernetics laboratory on Deck 36. _

"Is he alone?"

_Affirmative. _

I left my bed, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed my comm-badge and padd, and slipped out of Mom's quarters, taking the fastest route to the engineering deck, but turning toward the smaller laboratories, rather than main engineering.

The last time I'd been in Data's lab was when he had been trying to remove that tongue stud _without_ kissing me, even though we'd both eventually admitted to knowing that kissing was the only solution, and for a moment, I hesitated. Maybe he was really working on something else. Maybe I shouldn't have barged down there.

I pressed the annunciator button, and waited for the door to slide open so I could step inside.

Unlike the last time I'd been there, Data's lab was softly lit, and a couch – the one that used to be in his quarters, from the look of it – was nestled into a corner with a small table near it. It wasn't furniture I'd gone there to see, though.

"Zoe!" his bright tone betrayed his surprise. "I was not expecting you," he told me honestly. "It is very early; are you alright?"

"Mostly," I said. "I couldn't sleep. Ever since I had my talk with Tev the other day, I can't stop thinking about Lore's data solid, and what's on it. I think… Look, most women who are raped get to confront their rapist. They get to see him in court. There's closure. I won't ever have that opportunity, will I?"

I met his gaze, and held it.

"It is unlikely," he admitted, after a long pause. "I am sorry."

"I figured as much," I confirmed. "I think if we solve that mystery, if we find out what all this was _for_, it'll be the closest thing to closure I can get."

Data had been using 'we' and 'our' in relation to things ranging from his bed to the aftermath of my rape, and every time I'd questioned him, he had reminded me that we were a couple. I half-expected him to question my use of the word this time.

"It will still be necessary to insert the data solid into my head," he said, rising from his chair and guiding me to the couch, where he sat down, and gestured for me to do the same. "I have not wished to trouble you by bringing up the data solid. I have been working with it, and I have isolated the personality overlay, and neutralized its effect."

I gave him a wry shake of my head. "I _knew_ you wouldn't have just let it go."

"And I suspected you would look for me here when you were ready to face the problem again."

I reached for his hand, but he was faster, and folded my hand within his own. "I need you to let me be part of the process," I told him. "I know I won't be able to do much, except maybe sit here and offer moral support –"

"You may be of more help than you believe," Data said. "When Counselor Troi and I were attempting to decode the Tamarian language your presence as a 'sounding board' was useful. As well, you have insights into my brother that I do not."

"Believe me, I wish I didn't." He didn't need to tell me that he wished the same thing. We were both quiet for several seconds, and then the seconds stretched into minutes. Finally, I asked, "Data, do we really have to put it in your head?"

"I have tried running it through the ship's computer, and it would not function."

"I don't suppose you could use the holodeck and make a duplicate of yourself to insert the solid into?"

"That is an interesting notion," he said. "But a holographic representation of me would only look and behave like me; there would be no circuitry available to accept the chip."

"Sorry, I'm sure you've thought of everything already anyway."

"Not necessarily," he said. "You are often able to leap intuitively to concepts I have never considered."

"Often?" I snorted. "Doubtful."

"Do not doubt. No one but you has ever asked if my physical responses are 'pure' programming." He lifted our joined hands slightly, directing my attention to them, "No one but you has questioned whether I am 'allowing it' when our fingers twine. It is true that you lack real expertise in computers or cybernetics, but… that is not 'what you are here for.'"

The audible quotation marks never failed to make me smile. "Okay," I said, and then something struck me. "Data… what happened to the contents of your father's place on… whatever that planet was."

"Terlina III," he said. "After we disposed of Dr. Soong's remains, I sealed the structure. Why do you ask?"

I tried not to cringe at his casual reference to his father's death, and just focus on the issue at hand. "He had to be able to test the emotion chip Lore stole, right? Maybe there's something there that _this_ chip could interface with?"

I saw Data's eyes widen and his features resolve into his 'processing' expression. When his focus returned to the here-and-now, his face brightened even further. "I believe you have solved our dilemma," he said. "I did not have the opportunity to catalogue the contents of my father's home, but with the assistance of Nick, I did ensure that ownership was transferred to my name. We are currently only two day's travel from the Terlina system." He released my hand, rose, and moved back to his workstation. "I am requesting two week's leave in order to go back there."

His hands were flying as he sent text messages to the Captain and Commander Riker, to Lt. Barclay, asking him to care for Spot – all of this I knew, because he was giving me a play-by-play as he did everything. _Wait… care for Spot?_ But before I could ask he added, "I am sending a message to Geordi asking if he will accompany us."

_Wait… us? _

"Data?"

He kept issuing commands to the computer, plotting navigation, requisitioning one of the larger shuttles.

I raised my voice, "_Data!_"

He immediately stopped what he was doing, and turned to face me. "Zoe?"

"You're not expecting me to go with you, are you?"

"Did you not just convey to me the importance of being 'part of the process?'"

"Well, yes, but… my mother will never allow it."

"As she recently told you," he said, "it is no longer 'her call.'"

"It isn't," I said. "But it also _is_."

"I do not understand."

I wasn't sure I knew how to explain it. "It's a… a mother-daughter thing. Going to Vulcan with everyone, via transporter, is very different than jaunting across the quadrant with my lover and his best friend."

"Does that mean we should not ask her?"

I sighed. "Oh, we can ask. I'm just not sure we're gonna like her answer."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45300.15**

**(Friday, 19 April 2368, 20:33 hours, ship's time) **

It wasn't until Data brought coffee and dessert to the table that my mother finally realized that the dinner he and I were hosting in his quarters wasn't merely an attempt to establish a new way of interacting.

"Alright kiddo," she said, stirring cream into her coffee. "Out with it."

"Mom?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"I've known you since you were a zygote, daughter-of-mine, and I know the way you act when you want something you don't think you can have." She put both elbows on the table so she could hold her coffee cup in both hands and glare at me over the top of it. "Spill it."

I saw Ed flash both my mother and me bemused looks. "I can't deny I'm curious to know if there's a greater purpose to this dinner," he said. "Not that it hasn't been wonderful."

I waited for Data to return to his chair, glancing at him in momentary surprise when he covered my hand with his. "If you wish me to…" he began softly.

"No, I'm fine," I said. We had discussed it and he had agreed to let me do the talking, at least until I needed him for backup. "Mom, Ed, Data and I have something to tell you…" I waited for their total focus and blurted. "We're eloping. We leave in the morning."

I saw Ed rest his hand on my mother's shoulder, probably holding her down as much as reassuring her.

"Over my dead bod –" my mother began.

I cut her off. "Relax, Mom. I'm kidding."

"Zoe, if you think this is funny…"

"Mom, chill, really. Look, I just want your permission to go with Data to Terlina, so we can pack up his father's belongings, and hopefully solve a puzzle."

I saw my mother take a couple of cleansing breaths, and then an extremely slow, contemplative sip of coffee. "Tell me more," she said.

And so we did. Actually _I_ did, with Data only offering clarification from time to time. I knew my mother would approve when she asked her last question:

"What about school?"

"I'm ahead in most of my classes, now that I don't have a tyrannical math tutor to deal with," I was teasing Data with that line, and he knew it. "And I'm pretty sure I can get my assignments early; do you really think either Data or Geordi would allow me to ignore my obligation to school?"

Mom and Ed shared a look, then he inclined his head slightly toward her, and I saw her whole demeanor relax.

"We talked about this when you asked about Vulcan, kiddo," she said softly. "It's not my call anymore. I'm glad you asked me, and I understand why you need my approval, but the decision to go, or not, is ultimately yours."

I opened my mouth to thank her, but Data spoke before I could. "Emily, I wish you to understand: I do not intend to do anything that will undermine your relationship with your daughter. I believe our motivations are the same, where Zoe is concerned; we both wish for her to be safe, happy, and fulfilled. She cannot be any of those things if she perceives that you are not 'on her side.'"

His words both eased the mood and finalized our plans.

"Promise me you'll keep her safe," Mom said. None of us needed her to add the words _this time_. We all heard them in our heads.

"I promise to try," Data answered honestly. "Always."

The somber moment threatened to overwhelm what had been a pleasant dinner, until Ed said, "Tell me more about this planet… Terlina? Why hasn't anyone heard of it?"

"Terlina is not a habited world, and while it is only two days from our current position, it is 'off the beaten path' in terms of established trade routes," my boyfriend explained. "As well, Dr. Soong managed to acquire ownership of the entire planet and keep it off the official star charts."

"Wait, you own the entire planet?" I asked.

"Yes," Data said simply.

None of us had a good response to that.

Our little party broke up not much later, with my mother and Ed taking leave of Data and me. We wouldn't _really_ be departing until late Sunday, so I promised Mom I'd see her the next day when I went home to pack.

She pulled me into a warm hug, and for a brief moment, I was a little girl again, wrapped in unconditional love and motherly acceptance. Then she surprised me by letting go of me and reaching to embrace Data, as well. _That_ hug was a lot shorter, and a lot looser, but it was a big gesture, and I was touched by it.

**(=A=)**

Hours later, after I had cast off proper clothes in exchange for a good-as-new Starfleet Academy Athletics Department t-shirt that Data had apparently been issued as an incoming cadet, and stored away 'just in case,' I pulled him away from his console for some 'couch time.'

"Thank you for hosting dinner tonight," I told him after we'd talked about a few other things.

"I believe it was merely the first of many such events that our quarters will be home to," he said.

"Are you aware that's the second time you've referred to your quarters as 'ours?" I asked him. I'd been letting that question simmer for nearly a week.

"I am aware," he said.

"But they're _not_."

"You may not live here 'full-time,'" he explained. "But a significant number of your belongings have made their way here. Your cello has not left this space in months. We share a bed, and a routine. Does that not make these rooms as much your home as mine?"

"I wish…"

"Tell me, Zoe. _What_ do you wish?"

"I wish I _did_ live here full-time, but I'm only seventeen, and even though it's not illegal or anything, if I were to actually live with you, it would reflect poorly on you."

"I do not believe that it would. The specific living arrangements of _Enterprise _personnel are not reported to Starfleet. "

"It would also harm my relationship with my mother."

"That is valid," he agreed. "You will be nearly eighteen when you return to the ship at the end of your time with Idyllwild," he pointed out.

"Speaking of that…"

"Zoe?"

"What happens when I leave, Data? Do we try the long distance thing? Do we break up? I love you, and I – I love _us_. But I'm going to be away from the ship for six months. We've both said we want a future together, but long distance never works."

Data lifted me onto his lap and nuzzled my hair before he responded. "The future we both envision will happen only if we ground it with a solid present." I wondered who he'd been talking to, and when he'd become so wise. "I must remind you that some long distance relationships _do_ last. I must also remind you: no one has ever attempted a long-distance relationship with an android."

I laughed. "Tev said I was worrying over nothing."

"It is not 'nothing,' Zoe, but I do believe your worries are unfounded."

"So, when I come back after Idyllwild…?"

"I would like you to move in with me, yes," he confirmed. "It is the logical next step in our relationship."

"I'd like that," I said, feeling as though he'd given me something to hold onto. "I'd like that a lot."

We proceeded to demonstrate to each other _exactly_ how much we each liked our future plan.

* * *

**Notes: **The painting Zoe refers to is what Data painted in the one-shot _Carte Blanche_ (the piece is M-rated, but not really explicit, if you haven't read it). The planet Nordstral, the Kitka, and the kraken are all from the TOS novel _Ice Trap, _by L.A. Graf. The last active appearance of Lore's data solid was in chapter 13 of this story. Terlina III is the planet where Data (and Lore) are summoned by Dr. Soong in the episode _Brothers_. While it's never named on-screen until _Inheritance_, I think it's safe to assume that Data learned the name from title documents and Soong's will, if not other sources. Remember to check my profile page for updates to the chronology, as well as news about what's going on with me.


	24. Crescendo

**_Disclaimer:_****_ Star Trek: The Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

* * *

**Crescendo**

**Stardate 45307.26**

**(Monday, 22 April 2368, 11:03 hours, ship's time)**

_**U.S.S. Ontario**_** runabout**

"Okay, Zo', it's time you took a turn at the controls," Geordi said from the left seat of the runabout we were taking to Terlina III. Data had chosen the _Ontario _as our vehicle. It was the same runabout we'd used a year and a half before for our math tutorial's trip to Serenity Five, and I was beginning to wonder if he was partial to it.

"So not funny!" I sang back to him from the passenger compartment where I'd been finishing an essay on the seeds of feminism in nineteenth-century Terran literature for Ed's class. "Data, your friend is toying with me!"

"Actually," Data said, leaving the cockpit so he could speak with me directly, "he is not. We discussed it while you were working, and based on your performance in the simulator on the holodeck, I agree with Geordi's assessment that you are ready for 'real world' experience."

"You're not worried I'll get us all killed?"

Data sat next to me at the table that took up a good portion of the middle compartment, angling his chair so he was facing me. "We are currently in a safe region of space with little chance of impact or the need for any but minor course corrections," he explained. "As well, I have entrusted my life to your piloting skills before, and had no cause for concern."

I still hesitated. Data _had_ let me ferry him around Centaurus in my flitter when he'd visited me at my father's home over the winter holidays, only taking over the controls when I'd asked him to, but a cloud-to-ground flitter was a lot smaller and easier to maneuver than a full-sized runabout, let alone the fact that if you crashed a flitter you were, at least, surrounded by atmosphere.

"Look at it this way, Zoe," Geordi added, projecting his voice from the front section of our ship, "You'll have two of Starfleet's finest ready to take over the controls if anything goes wrong."

"Do you anticipate something going wrong?" I directed the question to Data, but pitched my voice so Geordi could hear as well.

"I do _not_," Data assured me. "However, I do anticipate that the longer you are relegated to passenger status, the less likely you are to enjoy this voyage. You are here as my partner, and a participant in our agenda, not an observer."

I knew he could see me starting to agree, and the truth is: I don't know why I was nervous. Geordi had never been anything but a patient teacher, and when Data had been a passenger in my flitter, he'd never criticized, merely given me a few pointers to make the ride smoother. "I _am_ about done with this essay," I said. "Could whichever of you isn't going to be babysitting me proof it?"

"The computer can do that, you know, Zo'," Geordi said, joining us. "We're on autopilot," he informed Data. "I could use something to eat, so why don't we have lunch and then you can let Zoe show off what I've taught her."

"If your suggestion is acceptable to Zoe, it is acceptable to me," Data said.

"Sure," I said forcing a tone that was much more relaxed and breezy than I felt. "Why not?"

**(=A=)**

Roughly an hour later, I was sitting in the left seat of the runabout, listening as Data's calm voice as he oriented me to the runabout's controls. "It is not significantly different from the flight deck of the utility shuttle you have been practicing on in the simulation," he assured me. "The controls are all in the same configuration, but there is a greater distance between them, and the displays are slightly larger."

"So, I confirm our course and heading," I said. "Tell the computer to save it, then disengage the autopilot and execute manual direction?"

"Exactly."

I followed the steps I'd just outlined, and tried not to let my nervousness show, but Data had been correct: the only adjustments I had to make were minor; mostly, I was just monitoring. I had to ask though, "That first night on the trip to Serenity Five, you told me only Starfleet officers and licensed operators were allowed to helm 'fleet-owned vessels. So, why are you letting me do this now?"

"Student pilots must have real-world experience, Zoe. You are logged in as Geordi's student."

"But you allowed it."

"More than 'allowed,'" he said. "I suggested it."

I shook my head, laughing. "You sneaky, conniving, sweet, wonderful… god, I love you."

"And I am devoted to you, Zoe, but must I continually remind you that I am not god, only Data?"

If you've never heard smugness coloring an android's tone of voice, trust me; it's a delicious sound.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45311.55**

**(Wednesday, 24 April 2368, 00:41 hours, ship's time)**

Under both officers' supervision, I logged a combined total of twelve hours of flight time in the two days it took to make our journey. Late at night on the second day, after Geordi had retreated to one of the sleeping alcoves, I replicated a mug of tarragon-mint tea and joined Data in the cockpit.

"Mind company?" I asked.

"You are always welcome, Zoe," he reminded me. I saw him glance at the controls, ensuring that the autopilot hadn't deviated from its programmed course, before turning his full attention to me. Well, the bulk of his attention, anyway. "But it is late; is something troubling you?"

"Not exactly," I said. "I'm just… nervous, I guess. I mean. I want to be here with you. I need answers as badly as you do, at this point. But I'm also facing the reality that I'm mostly going to be in the way. I'm already messing with the working dynamic you and Geordi have."

"Your presence is _altering_ the way we work together, yes," he corrected. "But if by 'messing with' you mean 'disrupting,' you are mistaken. Similarly, I reject your assertion that you will be in the way. As we discussed last week, you are often able to perceive things that I cannot." He paused, tapped a control, and the cabin lights dimmed by about sixty percent. "While it is true that we both require answers, there is another reason I asked you to accompany me to Terlina III; your presence is reassuring to me."

"You're anxious about what we're going to find on that chip," I stated.

"You know that I cannot experience anxiety, Zoe," he evaded.

"And yet, you want your girlfriend at your side when you return to your father's house."

"If it were you," he challenged, "returning to the place where you last saw your father alive, in order to discover the contents of a chip that your brother inserted into the tongue of the woman you had already begun to care for, the one who would eventually become your lover – the same brother who has been using her as a pawn in an unspecified game - would you wish to face it alone?"

_Well, when you put it __that__ way_. "No," I said. "Of course I wouldn't." I reached across the gap between the seats and slipped my hand into his, squeezing gently, and smiling when his fingers flexed softly against mine. "You said it yourself; we're in this together. My rape, your father's legacy, Lore's secrets. It's all one big tangle. But if I have to be tangled in something, I'm glad it's with you."

"As am I," he said quietly.

I glanced through the open doorway to the main compartment and the bunkroom beyond. The lights were all dimmed. Smiling, I turned back to the man I loved. "You know," I said. "The last time we were on a road trip together, I sat on your lap and we shared some lovely kisses."

Two taps to the console, and then he turned his chair to face me again. "You are requesting a 'repeat performance.'" It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Come here."

'Just kissing' wasn't any less thrilling after becoming lovers than it had been months before when we were first defining our relationship.

**(=A=) **

**Stardate 45313.35**

**(Wednesday, 24 April 2368, 4:28 PM, local time)**

**Terlina III**

I'm not quite certain what I expected Dr. Soong's Jungle Hideaway to be. Certainly, to use ancient Earth vids as a reference, I hadn't expected a cross between _The Blue Lagoon _and _Jurassic Park. _Nevertheless, those are the two settings that came to mind when we did a flyover, and then landed in front of, the low-slung bungalow nestled into a clearing in the thick greenery, just at the edge of a natural lagoon.

At least I _think_ it was a lagoon. It might have been a lake. In any case a thunderstorm had arrived at the same moment we had, and between the thickening cloud cover, the torrential rain, and the sense of urgency we all seemed to feel about getting inside and out of the wet, there hadn't been time or opportunity to really explore.

If I hadn't expected to be in a jungle, I also hadn't expected to run into a T-Rex in Dr. Soong's living room. Okay, it wasn't exactly his living room; we'd obviously entered the house through his lab. But still...

"Data, no offense to Dr. Soong, but, when exactly did Early Natural History Museum become a valid decorating choice?" I waited a beat, then added, before he could address my initial question. "Is it real?"

"I am uncertain as to why my father chose to keep the skeleton here," Data informed me. "But it _is _real. In fact, I have reason to believe it is the tyrannosaurus rex skeleton known as 'Sue.'"

"I thought she'd been lost sometime in the twenty-first century," Geordi put in, joining us. He'd been slightly behind us, closing up the runabout while Data was opening the house. "She's bigger than I remember."

There was a soft click from behind us as the door closed, and then a soft beep, but since neither of the officers reacted to it, I didn't either.

"Apparently," Data said. "She was found. She has not grown, though."

"Are you going to keep her?" I wanted to know.

"I have not yet determined which of my father's belongings I will retain, and which I will discard. It is my hope that, in addition to discovering the rest of the data on Lore's chip, I can also begin to sort through… everything."

I was hungry and damp, but I took a few minutes to goggle at said 'everything.' The main floor of the oval space was sunken about a meter below the balcony where the doors were. Both levels were lined with shelves and cabinets and books were piled everywhere. Most of them were cybernetics texts, but they jostled up against a lot of classic science fiction (especially the works of Isaac Asimov, Robert A. Heinlein, and Arthur C. Clarke) including a copy of _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? _

Aside from the books, there was a nearly full-scale display panel that was already powered up, and displaying android schematics – I'd have to ask Data for a guided tour, later – tapestries of flying birds, an angel statue that was both soothing and menacing at once (don't ask how), and an old-school chalkboard, with mathematical formulae scrawled across it in a script that bore a marked resemblance to Data's own handwriting.

_Intriguing, _I thought, and chuckled at the notion that spending so much time with Data had begun to affect my inner voice.

My interest flickered somewhat as I scanned the various work surfaces. All were cluttered, some with devices I couldn't identify, let alone discern what their purposes might be, others with electronic components and tools and a pair of android feet.

Oh.

I turned away from _that_ table abruptly, hoping Data wouldn't see my reaction, but he was right behind me. "It is alright, Zoe," he murmured into my ear. "They do not belong to anyone we know."

I turned to face him. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be. When I saw them the first time I was also… disconcerted."

"What about people we _do_ know?" I asked. "Can Lore get back here."

"There are no detectable ships anywhere in this solar system," he said. "The runabout has been set to make periodic passive scans just to ensure that, and the house has a security system which was enabled as soon as we entered. Even if he managed to arrive here without our knowledge, he would not be able to enter."

I shivered, but it wasn't just because of the prospect of facing Lore again, however remote that might be. It was because the ventilation system had cooled the air, and it was chilly standing around in damp clothes.

"Neither of us is going to let anything happen to you, Zoe," Geordi added.

"Thank you – both of you." I said. "Data, there's more to the house then this workroom isn't there? Maybe somewhere where we could make tea, and I could change?"

The android's demeanor brightened, "Of course," he said. "I have neglected my duties as host. While it would be possible to stay in the runabout, I believe the caretakers have made the house 'suitable for living.' This way."

He led Geordi and me up another set of stairs, and through a set of doors at the back of the room, passing an open bathroom door, and small alcove with a recliner before we emerged into a large, open kitchen, one that sported an up-to-date food replicator, as well as high-end appliances.

"Someone was kind of a foodie," I observed wryly. "Wait… caretakers?"

"Representatives of a discrete firm, who come here once a month to clean and ensure that all of the major systems are functioning adequately. Once Nick and I had time to go through my father's will, we discovered that had a dedicated account, from which payments were made automatically by 'sweeping' the interest it was earning."

"Who's Nick?" Geordi asked.

"My attorney," said Data, at the same time that I answered, "My stepmother's brother."

I saw dark brows arch behind the gold VISOR the engineer wore. "Wow, Data, I had no idea."

"Now you know the truth, Geordi," I teased. "I'm only into him for his wealth and power."

Geordi burst out laughing. "Of course you are," he teased back. "That explains a lot."

Data ended the conversation with his perfect deadpan. "I thought you were 'into me' because of my 'good looks and charm.'"

**(=A=)**

The house itself was basic, but well appointed. The kitchen had a dining area attached, and that blended into a living room – all facing the lagoon. Two bedrooms, one of which had been turned into a study, with a bathroom between them, plus a master suite.

"We will be staying here," Data informed me, leading me into the master bedroom. "Geordi will take the guest room."

I turned in a slow circle, surveying the space. The room was airy and spacious, decorated mainly in shades of blue. The bed was larger than the one in Data's quarters, and boasted a collection of pillows that rivalled my bed at my father's house on Centaurus.

"You had this room redone for me," I accused, turning back to Data, who was waiting expectantly. "When did you have time to have this done?"

"The caretakers were here while we were in transit," he said, "and they redecorated the room for _us_. If you look, you will see that there are ports for optical cable near 'my side' of the bed. There is something for _you_, however, in the bathroom."

Immediately I went to look, confused for a moment because it seemed like an ordinary residential bathroom, and then I realized it had a proper bathtub as well as the dual-fitted shower. Returning to the larger room, I asked, "Why do I get the feeling that these 'caretakers' of yours are much more than just interstellar Molly Maids?"

"Because they are," Data answered, telling me everything and nothing in three little words.

"There's a story there," I teased.

"Yes, there is a 'story,'" he confirmed, "but now is not the time to tell it. Geordi is waiting for us."

"Go find him," I urged. "I promise not to indulge in a bath until after dinner, at least. I just want to change into dryer, more comfortable clothes." I glanced at him. "I suppose it wouldn't do me any good to remind you that this isn't a Starfleet mission, but a personal one, and therefore you don't have to wear your uniform twenty-four-seven…" Something flickered in his expression, and I trailed off. "I'm sorry," I said, redirecting our conversation. "Your uniform is your armor, isn't it?"

This wasn't a new line of conversation. I'd mentioned his choice of attire before. Since then, we'd gone shopping, and he'd been wearing civilian clothing off-duty more and more often, but we'd talked about what this trip meant to him, and I should have been more sensitive.

"In a manner of speaking," he agreed slowly, as if he'd taken a second or two to think over what I'd said. "But you are also correct that we are on a personal investigation, if not the vacation I know you would prefer it to be."

I had the decency to look mildly guilty. With the countdown to my departure from the ship ticking ever louder in my head, I'd hoped we'd be able to steal some quality personal time while we were there. I took a moment to formulate my answer.

"When we get home, I'm going to be caught up in finals, and the play, and packing for Idyllwild. I have to find an apartment to sublet, and a gazillion other things, and running through all of it is the knowledge that I'm going away from you. And I know – I _know_ – that you believe we can make it work, that it's just another etude in a lifetime of them – but I'm scared, Data."

I sat on the edge of the bed, and he sat next to me, and pulled me close, nuzzling my hair. "What do you wish me to say?"

"Just listen? I'm not done."

"Continue," he encouraged, but his left arm stayed fully around me, and he covered my right hand with his own.

"I know why we're here. I know it's not a vacation. I know how important it is that we both learn what's on that chip. I can't lie to you, though, I'm hoping that the time we have here will include _some_ time just for us."

"It will," he promised. "I had already built some 'us time' into the agenda."

"You have an agenda – no, wait, _of course_ you have an agenda. Care to share?"

"Certainly. However, as Geordi is also involved in the primary purpose of our time here, and is likely waiting for us to return, I believe it would be more efficient if I present it to both of you at once."

I favored him with a soft smile. "Have I mentioned lately how annoying it is when you're right?" I asked, and kissed him.

He didn't answer, but he moved the hand that was covering mine to tangle it in my hair, and held the kiss until I almost couldn't breathe. When we finally broke apart, the corners of his mouth curved into his tiny, trademark smile. "This trip is an etude, and your time away will be a series of them, Zoe, but I am certain we will master all of them."

I chose not to argue.

I chose to believe him.

I chose to claim a few more kisses before I actually changed to fresh clothes and joined him in the living room, where Geordi had been waiting.

**Stardate 45321.31**

**(Saturday, 27 April 2368, 2:26 PM, local time)**

For the first two and a half days of our time on Terlina III, I'd mostly stayed out of the workroom, as I'd begun to think of it, since it didn't really look anything like my idea of a laboratory. I would poke my head in from time to time, reporting on my own activities (I'd brought a massive amount of homework along, and was also learning my lines for _Little Women)_, and checking to see how the boys (as I'd begun to think of them) were doing.

The first night, after a replicated dinner of eggplant parmesan and a mixed green salad, Data had laid out his agenda: inventory the workroom, pick apart Soong's computer files, find whatever he'd used to test the emotion chip, and decrypt the remaining content of Lore's data-solid.

So far, Data and Geordi had organized and catalogued everything in the room, putting things in their allocated (but apparently largely unused) spots. All the spare body parts had been quietly and efficiently hidden away before I'd even had a chance to ask about their purpose. Had Dr. Soong been building another android? I had a lot of theories, and a few mad ideas, but I hadn't yet found a way to ask.

My reaction, on that first day, hadn't fazed Data – we'd talked before about why stray parts bothered me - but Geordi was basically the brother Data _should_ have had, and he didn't know everything. It didn't surprise me, then, when he poked his head around the frame of the door to the study I'd claimed as my workspace.

"Hey, Zo', got a minute?" he greeted. "I'm not pulling you away from anything am I?"

"I think this essay on 'Five Positive Benefits of the Khitomer Accords' can wait a bit. Is there a problem? Is Data okay?"

"He's fine. He's isolated one of the test programs and cobbled together a basic matrix from Dr. Soong's notes and components. He'll be ready to test the chip tomorrow. I actually wanted to ask about you."

"About me?"

"Yeah… mind if I sit?" He gestured to the club chair across from the love seat where I was sprawled with my padd.

"Feel free." I put the device away and sat up properly. "What's up?"

"Are you avoiding the lab because I'm here, or because of the feet that were on the table when we got here?"

"Well, the feet did kind of weird me out, but I've been staying out of the workroom because there's nothing I can do there but get in the way."

"You sure that's all?"

"What do you mean?"

I hadn't seen Geordi's expression that serious since the time we thought Data had perished in a shuttle accident. "I mean… you're not staying out of the room because seeing all of Dr. Soong's work reminds you that Data's a machine, are you?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Yeah, Zo', I think I am."

Ordinarily, I would have made a joke, but Geordi was as protective of Data as I was, and I could tell he wanted a real answer. "I know he's a machine," I said quietly. "I've tinkered with the inside of his head. I had to deactivate him, remember?"

"I remember," he said, his tone as soft and intense as mine. "But…"

I didn't let him add to that sentence. Instead, I explained, "The first time I saw Data's machine-y insides, it was before I went to Earth last summer, and it was because he'd done something to his arm to approximate tendonitis."

"That sounds like him," Geordi chuckled.

"I know, right? Anyway, I reacted… he thought I was put off by the fact of what he was, but the reality was that I was crushing on him really hard, and I felt like I hadn't earned the right to see something so intimate. I was embarrassed and I got a little shy, and when I asked to see more, he patiently explained what every servo-mechanism and actuator did, and when he sealed his arm, and I touched it… it was like electric sparks… and I was _sure_ he could tell that I was… my pulse was racing so fast."

I could see Geordi's face softening, his posture relaxing.

I continued. "Now… now I can see his circuits and diodes and everything, and I don't feel like I'm seeing things I haven't earned. I just feel so lucky that this amazing person chose _me_."

"Then why did seeing the feet make you so uncomfortable?"

It was a fair question, I guess. "It's… having spare bits of android lying around. It makes me feel like people see him as a _thing_ when he's so obviously not. It's… disrespectful."

"Disrespectful?"

"Wrong? Profane? Invasive? None of those are really the right word. But I don't _have_ the right word, so… yeah… Disrespectful."

Geordi was quiet for a full minute, and then, when he did speak, it was a slowly drawled, "Yeeeeah. Okay. I get it."

I gave him my best wry smile. "For the record, if it were human body parts lying around, I'd have screamed bloody murder, so…" I shrugged.

Geordi chuckled. "Okay."

But I felt like I hadn't really eased his mind about whatever it was he wanted to know, so I added, in a quiet tone, "You know I'd never hurt him, don't you?"

"He'd say he can't _be_ hurt."

"And we both know that's not true." I stared out at the lagoon for a long moment, adding softly. "I love him, Geordi. I mean… I'm _in_ love with him, but also, I just… love him."

The VISORed man stared at me for a long moment as if he could read my emotions the same way he could read my temperature. "You should consider bringing your schoolwork into the lab. He's… well, he denies it, but he's really anxious about the contents of that chip. I think having you there helps him."

"He told me my presence was 'reassuring.'"

Geordi laughed. "Wow. That's big."

"Do you mind it? Us, I mean?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"_Geordi_…" I began, with teasing exasperation. "I answered _your_ question."

My boyfriend's best friend hesitated, as if choosing his words. "I was a little worried about your age."

"I'm legal," I said. "We didn't… He would never have let things…"

"I know. Zoe, I know. I _was_ worried. But I saw what you've done for him. Civilian clothes… not working double shifts as if he has to please everyone by doing twice as much work…. The captain's been trying to get Data to reduce his workload for ages."

"I didn't… I keep feeling like I'm keeping him from doing the things that matter." I laughed. "He tells me _I_ matter."

"He's right. And not for nothing, but ever since you started playing music together, he's been developing new neural pathways so much faster."

I could feel my face going pale. Data had told me that an exponential increase in neural pathways was one of the causes of Lal's cascade failure. "He won't… what happened to his daughter won't happen to him, will it?"

"No. His net is growing faster, but not too fast, and we know what to watch for now." He stood up, then, evidently finished with what he came to say… and hear. "I'm off to raid the kitchen. You want anything?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm good. But… you think there's room for me at one of the tables in there?"

"Pretty sure Data has room set aside for you already. He was just waiting for you to be ready to be there."

I smiled. "He can be pretty perceptive sometimes."

"Yeah. Yeah, he can." The engineer turned to leave but I called him back. "Zoe?"

"Could you wait, like, half an hour before you go back to work? There's something I need to do."

Geordi's smile was the radiant one he shared with his closest friends. "Sure, Zo'."

I waited for about a minute before I saved the essay I'd been working on, gathered my things and moved through the house to the lab. Geordi was at the kitchen table with a plate, a mug, and a padd that he seemed absorbed with, and I smiled to myself as I stepped into the room I'd come to think of as Data's domain.

As Geordi had said, a chair and an expanse of desktop were waiting for me when I entered, and I quietly set my padd and readers down, along with the glass of lemon-water I'd been sipping inside. It had a lid, of course, and a straw, so spillage wouldn't be an issue.

Data didn't react to my presence but I knew he'd heard me come in. I walked up behind him, waited for him to lift his hands from the console he was using, and hugged him from behind, leaning forward to rest my chin on his shoulder.

He glanced at my hands where they rested, crossed just below the collar of the forest-green tee he was wearing, then covered them with his own. The green wasn't his best color… but it was far from his worst. We stayed like that for a long moment, before I pulled away so he could swivel his chair to face me.

"You and Geordi have been having way too much fun in here without me," I teased lightly. "Sorry I'm late."

He seemed to understand what I wasn't actually saying, because his response was quiet, but warm. "No, Zoe. You are 'right on time.'"

"Can you take a break?" I asked. "I need you to do something for me."

"I will be happy to," he said. "What is it that you require?"

"A guided tour of the lab, for a start, and then I'd like you to walk me through the schematic display on the wall over there, if you don't mind."

"No, Zoe," Data said. "I do not mind at all."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45325.51**

**(Monday, 29 April 2368, 3:18 AM, local time) **

Lightning flashed outside the window, illuminating the lab as if all the lights were on, instead of the twin task lights over Data's chosen workstation, and the adjacent space that I had claimed. While rain had been a near-constant presence since our arrival, lightning storms had hit in the wee hours of only one other morning since we'd been there, and I found the sounds of wind and rain and thunder oddly comforting.

Well, most of the time, I found comfort in the storm-sounds. That night, the weather seemed to have a purpose. The thunder was louder and more malevolent than ever. The lightning flashes were like something out of a _Dracula_ video.

On the table, or rather, suspended above it in something vaguely reminiscent of the kind of anti-grav shock-mounts used for high-end microphones, was something that looked a little like the framework of an android head. Well, it was slightly more than just a framework. In fact, with no skin and the duranium alloy skull exposed, if it had been gold instead of silver, it would have looked uncannily like the character of C-3P0 from the ancient _Star Wars_ movies.

Data assured me, however, that it was just "…a cranial unit with a basic neurologic matrix. It is just a test model, not yet anything close to a person. There is no _there_ there. If it disturbs you, please remember that I cannot be offended if you choose not to participate."

"I never said I wasn't going to participate," I countered. "I just… It does disturb me a little, but only because my imagination goes to bad places where something happens to _you_, something irreversible."

"It is highly unlikely that I will ever be injured in such a fashion," he had pointed out.

"I hope that's true, Data." I took a breath. "Okay, let's do this."

He checked the connections on the test unit, and entered the activation sequence into the computer.

According to Data, the intended outcome was that the computer was supposed to give us the output from the decryption circuits in the test unit's head. Instead, just as he was powering up another arc of lightning split the sky, and the room was filled with an electrical _sting-pzzt_, and the house was plunged into blackness.

"Data?" I called out while my eyes adjusted. Unlike the _Enterprise_, Dr. Soong's lab was not equipped with emergency lighting.

"I am here," he said. "Are you o-kay?" Somehow, his slight stumble over that work always made me feel better. It was just so… _him._"

"Spooked, but fine. I can't remember the last time I was somewhere where a storm could knock out power." I took a deep breath and coughed from the smell of singed plastic. "Are _you_ alright?"

"I am… fine," came his answer. "I believe we can restart the generator in the basement."

"There's a basement?"

Another flash of lightning caused the room to brighten then fade into darkness again, as Data answered me. "It is accessed via a door behind the display panels. One moment. Fortunately, I can see in the dark. However, an extra pair of hands may be required."

"Should I wake Geordi?"

"If the storm did not already rouse him, I see no reason to do so, unless you object to accompanying me?" He made it a question.

I shook my head, realized he probably couldn't see it, and responded aloud. "Not at all, but… you don't happen to know where there's a flashlight or palm torch, do you? Some of us _can't_ see in the dark."

"I am afraid I do not."

"Mm. Oh, wait. Never mind."

"You have located a source of illumination?"

"In a manner of speaking," I said. What I had found was my padd. I switched it on, turning the back-lighting to maximum. Soft white light filled the space around me.

"You are using your padd as torch," Data observed. "That would not have occurred to me."

"That's because _you_ were never a child who liked to stay up late reading under the covers so she wouldn't get caught awake past bedtime." I stood up, and so did he.

"The basement is this way," he said.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45329.67 **

**(Tuesday, 30 April 2368, 3:52 PM, local time)**

The lightning strike had sent enough power into the computer systems that the cranial test unit could no longer function. Data and Geordi spent the better part of a day trying to salvage it, but so many connections had been melted that there was just no way.

"Alas, poor Yorick; I knew him well," I intoned, holding what remained of the silvery spheroid object for a moment before I sent it into the recycling machine.

My admittedly in-poor-taste joke netted me a wry chuckle from Geordi, but Data only tilted his head at me reproachfully. I _think_ some part of him understood that I was using questionable humor as a sort of coping mechanism, but he couldn't let it pass.

"Is there another test unit?" Geordi asked, even though he and I were fairly certain that the answer would be no.

"No, 'Yorick' was the only one," Data answered. I was about to make a joke about not having a lot more names for disembodied heads, but I sobered instantly when he said, "I am afraid we have no more options. We are left with what Lore originally wanted. We must insert the data-solid into my head."

"Because that went _oh_ so well before," I snarked. "Data… I can't… if you put that thing in your head and Lore's personality oozes out of you… if you call me _Pigeon_, like last time… I don't think I can separate it from you. It was… it was hard enough the first time, but now we're… us."

"We were already 'us,'" he said. "Zoe, I realize you are concerned about what may happen, but I told you before we left the _Enterprise: _I have isolated the personality overlay, and it is unlikely to become active. Have you forgotten?"

"How unlikely is 'unlikely?'" I wanted to know.

"Seventy-five point four three two percent."

I shook my head. "No. It's not good enough. Have _you _forgotten? Lore kidnapped me. He tossed me across his damned bridge. He broke my arm. He _raped_ me. And then he left me there alone."

I heard Geordi gasp at that. Hadn't he known what really happened to me on Lore's ship? He had to have known. _But Data would never have told him without my permission. _

"I have not forgotten," Data said quietly.

Something about the way he said it caused me to turn sharply and look at him. "Data?"

His face betrayed nothing, but his body language… it was as if he was a turtle, pulling himself back inside his protective shell. "I _cannot _forget." He met my eyes, held my gaze with his. "I cannot forget breaking down your hotel room door on Starbase 12, and having you collapse in my arms. I cannot forget the nightmares you had for weeks afterward."

His voice remained quiet, but it was also intense as he recounted every Lore-related incident of the last year. At some point Geordi set his padd down and left the room. I think he realized before I did that the conversation demanded privacy.

"I cannot forget materializing on Lore's ship and finding you on the deck, bruised and broken, and then realizing before you said the words that he had violated you, nor can I forget that you wished it were possible for me to make it not be true."

"Data…"

"I cannot forget your tears, and your frustration with your healing process."

I left my chair, closing the half a meter that separated us, and moving to hug him from behind, but he surprised me, and gathered me into his lap. Difficult to do in a rolling chair, even though it was hardly a small chair. Android strength at work.

"I can _never_ forget those things, Zoe, but equally indelibly encoded onto my memory engrams are other memories: the scent and texture of your hair, the warmth of your body, the pitch and timber of your voice, and the expressiveness of your face."

I draped one of my arms around his neck, and the other across his mid-section. "Why are you telling me all this.?"

"Because, Zoe, while I will _remember_ everything with the same intensity, forever, I cannot _feel_ it."

"Oh, Data… "

"I could not feel relieved when you were not injured in the starbase bombing, and I cannot feel flattered when you compliment my physical appearance. I could not feel horrified at what you endured, or enraged at what my brother had done. I could not feel happy when you began to find your footing again, and I cannot feel love for you, the woman who… matters… to me in a way that no other person has."

"You know I don't feel a lack of anything in our relationship. You show me every day how much I mean to you, and _you_ may not be able to feel love, but I promise _I_ don't feel anything but loved and cherished."

"That is gratifying to hear, but I have not finished what I wish to say."

"I'm sorry. Go on?"

"Thank you." When he continued, his voice was even softer… more intimate. "Whether or not _you_ perceive a 'lack of anything,' _I_ wish to be able to experience your feelings with you, and have my own, as well."

"I know this," I confirmed. "This I know; what does that have to do with Lore's data solid?"

"I understand that learning the reason for everything he has done will be a form of closure for you. But it is important to me for another reason. While I am quite certain that Lore's data solid does _not_ include the programming from the emotion chip he stole, I believe that learning what it does contain, and subsequently discovering what his 'game plan' is – or was – may be the key to retrieving it someday."

"And you truly believe sticking it back in your head is the only way to accomplish that?"

"We _have_ exhausted all other options," he reminded me patiently.

"Okay."

His eyebrows lifted and he made the slight quivering nod he sometimes did when confirming a piece of personal information. The one where he was looking up at me, even though his chin was lowered. "O-kay?"

I reached out to tease his hair, and trace his brow with my fingers. "I have some conditions."

"Tell me."

"The first condition is that we're done for the day. We're going to go into the house, and have a lovely dinner with Geordi, and maybe play a game or watch a vid. Then you're going to take me to bed and remind me just how 'devoted' to me you truly are, and in the morning, after breakfast, we will come in here, and I'll tell you the rest of my conditions."

"Your terms are acceptable."

"Good," I said. I was deadly serious.

"If you wish to go into the house for a meal, you will have to get up."

"I know."

"Zoe?"

I ran my hand through his thick, brown hair, reveling in the softness. Then I touched my lips to his in the gentlest of kisses. "As much as I wish Lore had never done those things to me, I wish just as much that I could make you forget them. I love you, and I _know_ you'll feel it – feel everything – one day, and I hate the thought that you'll have to experience it all over again once that happens."

He lifted his hand to play with my hair, but didn't say anything else. He didn't have to. He just pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and held me for another few minutes.

**(=A=)**

While Dr. Soong's Jungle Hideaway was fitted with state-of-the-art replicators, it also had a proper kitchen, and a pantry that included stasis units full of obviously homemade dishes that just needed to be heated and served. After declaring a moratorium on work-talk until morning, I went rooting through one of the stasis units, coming up with a vegetable frittata and another salad.

Dinner was subdued at first. Data and I had moved past our earlier disagreement before we'd even left the lab, but Geordi was clearly uneasy with what he'd seen… or heard. Eventually, even the polite conversation fell apart, and our meal became a weird combination of uncomfortable silence punctuated by awkward bursts of speech.

Data was watching both Geordi and me, trying to figure out what was wrong, and I was waiting for Geordi to explode, as the usually affable man seemed likely to do.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright, G-man, you're driving me crazy," I said to my boyfriend's best friend. "Are you upset because Data and I actually had something approaching an argument, or was it the subject matter that freaked you out?"

"Zoe, perhaps now is not the best time… " Data began.

"It's the only time," I answered him. "Do you want this weird tension going on while Geordi's got his fingers stuck in your head tomorrow?" I turned back to the engineer. "Couples disagree," I reminded him. "I'm pretty sure you're aware of that."

"It's not that," Geordi admitted, though the words came reluctantly. "It's… " He pushed his plate away. "Damn it, Zo', I didn't know he'd _raped _you. I mean, I knew you had a cast, and I knew he'd hurt you, but…"

"I just assumed Data had told you," I said. "I'm sorry if it was a shock."

"Nothing compared to what you must've gone through. How you're this well-adjusted, this soon…" He shook his head.

"But I'm not," I said softly. I glanced at Data, and then turned back to his – our? – friend. "It's only been a couple weeks since I stopped having nightmares every night. I still have them, but they're more random now. I still flinch when people I don't know really well try to touch me. You _saw _me have a flashback that night in sickbay when Data was all scorched and headless."

"I thought it was because of when he'd put the chip in his head… before."

"Well, that wasn't exactly a super-fun experience either," I snarked. "Honestly, if it wasn't for Data, I'm not sure I would be even this much better. He's been… he's been amazing."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Geordi said. "I guess I understand now why you were so adamant that we not put the chip back inside Data's head."

"Zoe and I discussed it further after you left," Data said. "She has agreed to allow us to proceed." He said it as if it was completely normal for one's romantic partner to have veto power over such things.

"With conditions," I amended for him. "Which I will share in the morning. Now, we really need to do something to lighten the mood, so if you two handle the dishes, and make coffee to go with dessert, I'm going to browse the game menu on the replicator."

Geordi laughed, but he also began stacking plates. The two of them made efficient work of cleaning up the remains of our meal, and then returned to the table, where I presented Data with a deck of cards.

"You wish to play poker?" he asked.

"I hate poker," I reminded him. "Texas Hold'em with you, that time, was a special situation. You two may be serious card players, but I am _not_; I prefer board games. So, we're splitting the difference with _Warp Ten_."

"Warp Ten is not actually possible," Data said. "The exponential progression of warping space is such that –"

"Not the point!" I cut him off. "Besides, in this case, _Warp Ten_ is just the name of a card game. It's actually based on _Liverpool Rummy_, but designed as a family game, so instead of remembering that Jokers are wild, there are actual wild cards. There are also special cards that allow you to skip other players' turns, buy extra cards, and steal a card from another player. Trust me, you'll have fun."

"But I cannot have fun," Data objected, though he used the tone that meant he was teasing me.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Fine. You'll learn more about interpersonal dynamics, and Geordi and I will have fun."

Geordi was laughing again. "She's got you there, Data," he said.

The game was a rousing success, and by the time Geordi excused himself to get some sleep, he and I really _had_ begun forming a friendship that was independent of me being 'Data's girlfriend.'

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45331.68**

**(Wednesday, 1 May 2368, 9:31 AM, local time)**

"Data, are you _sure_ you want to do this?" The question came from Geordi, not from me, but I can't deny I was also thinking it.

I had listed my conditions over coffee earlier in the morning: Geordi and I would be in the room the entire time. Geordi would be monitoring everything on the computer readouts, but Data would, as much as he was able, provide a running commentary about everything he was experiencing, and if, at any moment, one of us thought there was a problem, we would stop.

"I am certain, Geordi. Please proceed." An operating chair, like something from a dental office, had been moved from one of the storage rooms at the back of the lab to the center of the work-space – from the right angle it almost looked like Sue the T-Rex was guarding the chair – and Data took his position on the seat.

This time, it was the engineer's deft hands which opened the panel on Data's head, and his sure touch that inserted the chip into the specified port.

This time, I wasn't alone watching the man I loved take on another person's aspect, but with the one person I trusted most to take care of him in ways I couldn't. The conditions I'd set were mostly for my benefit – and both men were aware of that – but they were for Data's benefit, as well.

"Isolating personality overlay. Deactivating personality interface. Accessing first encrypted layer…"

"Zoe, look over here for a minute," Geordi invited. I pulled my eyes away from Data's face – the rapidly moving eyes and slightly twitching facial muscles – and turned toward the monitor displaying his functions. "This green line is baseline power consumption," Geordi explained. "It's usually pretty even, but you can see bursts of more activity when Data's tackling a difficult problem." There was a spike on that line, just as Data announced that he was executing decryption protocols.

"Analyzing data. Sending output to terminal three. Accessing second encrypted layer."

"The blue line," Geordi said, "shows the outgoing data-flow. See how he's sending information to the terminal?" looked over at the other terminal displaying the information that an optical cable attached to Data's head was feeding information to one of the computers.

"It looks like a map," I observed, watching as the images flickered on the screen. Most scrolled by faster than I could really parse them.

"Navigational chart," Data corrected. "Accessing third encrypted layer."

The entire process lasted about three hours. There were no outbursts of Lore-ish-ness, no smoking terminals, and Data seemed to be aware, if not exactly chatty, for the entire time. It seemed like an oddly welcome anti-climax, save for two events.

The first came as a spike of red on one of the monitors.

"Data are you sending a burst to the comm array?" Geordi asked in alarm, just as the last encrypted layer was being analyzed.

"I am not, Geordi. Why?"

The engineer shook his head. "Just for… not even a second… there was a spike on the communications grid."

"I am not aware of having sent anything to the communications array," Data said. "I will initiate a self-diagnostic when we have completed this task."

The second event came when the last layer of information had been lifted from the solid, after Geordi had already removed the optical cable. "There is an executable protocol designated _aperitif. _I am uncertain whether or not to run it."

"He's teasing you," I said.

"That is likely," Data agreed, "but I believe we must take this to completion. One moment."

For several seconds, it seemed as though nothing had happened, but then Data left his chair, and crossed the workroom. "Data, you okay?" His friend's voice was heavy with concern.

"I am… fine… Geordi."

But he didn't sound fine. I ducked under the skeleton he had gone around and stood in front of him, peering up into his face. "Data?" I asked softly.

Something passed over him, and his face, which usually showed only the merest hints of expression, the tiniest nuances of real emotion, was transformed – suffused, really – with something that looked a lot like the way love was depicted in cheesy romances.

"My Zoe," he said softly, and reached for my face. He cupped my chin in his hand, and lowered his lips to mine.

I was trembling. I was afraid Lore had overshadowed him somehow, but at the same time, I knew that wasn't the case.

_Cashews. _The taste of cashews flooded my mouth, as he teased my tongue with his. The hand that wasn't cupping my chin was at my waist. A hint of pressure was all he needed to bring our bodies closer together. We'd shared a _lot_ of kisses, but that one… it was deeper, our connection felt stronger than any other.

I was nearly breathless.

I was really wishing Geordi wasn't in the room.

When we separated, his eyes were doing their birdlike flickering again, and his expression implied a sort of surprised wonder. "I think…" he said. "I believe… " His head turned from left to right, as if he was seeking the source of some distant song. "I love y – " The words were broken, incomplete, and he didn't - couldn't finish the sentence.

And then it was gone. His demeanor was the mild and placid one that was his usual default, except that his face was somehow more blank than I'd ever seen it. "Data?"

"It is as you said, Zoe; Lore was teasing us."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"For a fraction of a second," he said softly. "I _felt_." He blinked rapidly several times, and then focused on me. "I believe it was lo-lo-lo-lo…" Data's speech devolved into a mechanical buzz, and then he toppled to the floor with a hollow _thud_.

"GEORDI!" I screamed, but the engineer was already there, already kneeling. "Is he... dead?"

"Just overloaded his processor," Geordi said, as if it happened every day. "And the chip is fused into the socket, but it's dormant now, so it won't hurt him to leave it there."

"Are you sure?"

His dark skin was etched with worry, but he remained calm. "As sure as I can be. I'm going to close the panel on his head, and then we're going to give him a few minutes and see if he comes back on his own."

"He can do that?"

"Sometimes, yeah."

Twelve incredibly long minutes elapsed before Data's eyes popped open. "Geordi," he greeted his friend first, but then his gaze settled on me, and he breathed my name like a sigh. "Zoe."

"Hey," I smiled. "You know, there are better ways to get us to kneel before you."

"Indubitably," he agreed. He sat up, wiggling his fingers and then moving his hands as if checking to make sure all of his basic functions still worked. Then he rose to his feet. "I am sorry if I frightened you."

"Not with that kiss," I said. "As to the rest...I'll survive," I said softly, "As long as you're okay – are you?"

"I am functioning normally," he assured me, "however, it is now imperative that I undergo a self-diagnostic. Geordi, will you monitor? I wish… I wish to have another pair of eyes."

"Happy to help, my friend."

"Do you mind if I don't stick around for this one?" I asked. "I'm a little overwhelmed, and… I think I need some alone-time." I glanced outside. "The rain finally stopped," I observed. "I'm going to walk down to the water. Find me when you're done?"

"I will do so."

I gave him a wry grin followed by a chaste kiss. Turning to Geordi I said, "Take care of him?"

"He's in good hands, Zo', I promise."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45332.65**

**(Wednesday, 1 May 2368, 6:03 PM, local time) **

The sun was just setting in a rare, clear evening sky when I heard the heavy crunch of Data's footsteps behind me. I'd brought a towel outside with me, and was sitting on it, staring at the water.

"Zoe?"

"You're done?"

"With the diagnostic, yes. It will take another two days, four hours, thirty-seven minutes –"

"_Data!_"

He left off the seconds. " - to finish parsing the information that was on the chip, but I understand the basic 'gist' of it."

"Can you tell me?"

"There was a chart showing the locations of several 'alpha' and 'beta' sites. I believe my father had other bolt-holes where he engaged in some of his work. Some of the locations are in… less than savory locations."

"Makes sense," I said.

"There is evidence that my father may have been working on another android, relatively recently. As well, there may be earlier prototypes in existence. It will be several years before all of the sites can be investigated."

"I don't get it," I said. "Why just hand you all that info?"

"I believe there are two reasons."

"Only two?"

"Two significant reasons," he amended. "May I sit?"

I looked at the towel, and the wet ground, and then I looked back up at him. "How 'bout I stand? We could take a walk, enjoy the evening while you explain?"

"That would be acc – I would be happy to."

"You don't have to do that," I said. "I mean, vaguing up the time is one thing, but… you don't have to change the way you talk for me. I know what you mean, and I know where it's okay to nudge you a little, and where it's not." I hesitated. "You don't have to stay in bed with me, either. I don't expect it."

"So you have said. And I have also said that I prefer to spend my time with you."

He offered his hand to help me up, and I took it, saying, "And that's fine when all we have are weekends, but… but when I get back from Idyllwild in December, it won't just be weekends."

"No, it will not."

"We're getting off track," I said. I turned my hand in his so we could walk together, but still have contact.

Data explained, as we began a slow stroll along the rocky beach, "I believe Lore gave me the information he did because, unlike him, I exist within the law. I was our father's named inheritor. I have a position of authority and legal status, whereas he is a fugitive who exists largely 'off the grid.'"

"So you do all the legal stuff, claim the property, and then…what? He swoops in and takes it away?"

"I believe that was his original plan, yes."

"I don't think he's much of a swooper these days… although… maybe he wasn't as broken as he seemed. I don't know. I wish… I wish there was a way to know."

"As do I, if only to ease your worries."

"I don't think he'll be coming after me again, Data."

"No," he agreed. "When Lore does make another appearance, I am certain I will be the target. It is, after all, the other reason for the data-solid, and speaks to the 'gift' we experienced at the end."

"We?" I turned my head to meet his eyes.

"Did you not experience it with me, Zoe?" I ducked my head briefly, agreeing, and he continued, "The second significant reason is that the information Lore provided is… bait."

I stopped walking. "Just be careful," I asked, the tone in my voice making it perilously close to begging. "Please? I know you crave family, but… be careful that he doesn't sink his hook so deeply that you can't get free. I don't think… I don't think I could survive losing you."

The tears that I'd held at bay during our heavy conversation the day before, the same tears that had threatened when I'd seen his face transformed by Lore's little gift, spilled out of me.

Data pulled me close, letting me sob all the worry and stress of the past few days onto his shirt, while he whispered into my hair, "You are my family, as well, Zoe. You will not lose me."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45341.20**

**(Saturday, 4 May 2368, 21:08 hours, ship's time)**

**Aboard the **_**U.S.S. Ontario **_**runabout. **

The last two and half days of our time on Terlina III were spent cataloging the contents of the lab and packing the items Data had chosen to take with him. Without the specter of what might be on the chip hanging over our heads, the three of us fell into a fairly comfortable routine.

Some of the time, Data and I ran lines for _Little Women_ as we worked. Other times, we engaged the entertainment system and listened to the audio streams for different news nets or played music.

We tried a lot of the foods that had been put in stasis, and played cards after dinner, moving from _Warp Ten_ to actual Rummy, and eventually Blackjack. It became usual for one of them to attempt to get me to play poker, and then capitulate, and that 'bit' continued when we were back aboard the shuttle on the way back to the ship Saturday evening.

"Zoe… it is your deal," Data prompted me."

"Oh, sorry."

"You okay, Zo?'" Geordi asked.

I shook my head to clear it. "Yeah. But I was wondering… Data, did your father have a wife or a girlfriend or anything?"

"I do not know, Zoe; why do you ask?"

"Because," I said, "I got the sense that the house on Terlina III wasn't meant to be the bolt-hole it became. I got the impression it was meant to be a retirement home. I mean… it's obvious it was meant for two people and the occasional guest, and… I don't know… I'm basically psi-null, but I felt very strongly that someone made the food that was in stasis. Someone with intent. I guess… from everything you've told me about your father, it sounds like his last few years were spent alone, and that's sort of sad."

"I do not believe he was discontent," Data offered after a moment.

I stared at the blackness beyond the runabout's window. "I hope not," I said. "But I still think it's sad to have put so much work into a house meant for two, and ended up without anyone to share it with."

Geordi got up to check the autopilot, and then returned, asking, "Have you decided what you're doing with the house, Data?"

"I am uncertain," Data answered.

"You should keep it," I said. "I think it'd be good for you to have a place of your own, even if you don't use it that often. Maybe use it as a vacation getaway." I turned back to the two men at the table, and reached out to touch Data's arm. "I'd like to spend more time there."

"We will 'plan on it,' then," he agreed. "Do you wish to discontinue our game?"

"Nope. But I do want you to teach me that riffle you do. Can you slow it down?"

While Geordi smirked at both of us, Data guided me through his fancy shuffling technique, and then I dealt the cards. We kept the game going, pausing when Geordi or I needed to rest, until we got back to the _Enterprise_, late on Sunday night.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45344.25**

**(Sunday, 5 May 2368, 23:56 hours, ship's time)**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_

"I am not on duty until tomorrow morning," Data told me as we walked back toward his quarters, having parted ways with Geordi in the turbo-lift. "Will your mother object if you come home with me tonight?"

I shook my head. "You heard her before we left. She doesn't get to make those calls anymore. I just need to let her know we're back." I waited a beat. "It's been an intense couple of weeks. If you need time to process, I won't be hurt. Do you _want_ me to stay?"

His answer was an echo of the way I typically responded when he asked me similar questions. "Always, Zoe. Always."

* * *

**Notes: **First, I apologize for the delay in this chapter. It was mostly done ten days ago, but even though my Brain Trust (**wintermute75, ReLive4Love, **and **Lacrimula Falsa**, I'm talking especially to you) liked it, it didn't feel right. Then we lost David Bowie and Alan Rickman, and that kind of killed my desire to write for a bit, and through it all I've been dealing with sinus/migraine combo headaches that have literally been causing me to cry from pain.

Runabouts in DS9 and after were named after rivers. As the runabouts from the _Enterprise-D _are earlier models, I've chosen to name them after lakes. I'm aware that canon has only a t-rex _skull_ in Soong's lab. I chose to put a whole skeleton there because I thought it was funnier. This _is_ technically AU, after all. Similarly, we never saw the whole house, but since Julianna was with Noonian, I believe it makes sense that he would provide her with comfortable, if somewhat simple, surroundings. _Warp Ten_, is, of course, a re-dress of _Phase 10 _with some added twists. _Phase 10 _really is based on _Liverpool Rummy_, and is also great fun. (In my circle of friends and family _Phase 10 _and _Cards Against Humanity_ are our go-to games. What are yours?)

Finally, if you missed _Bedtime Story_, which was my holiday gift to you all this year, it's on my profile page. Update 2 February 2016: For Data's POV of Lore's little 'gift,' see the oneshot _2 point 5 Words. _


	25. À Bientôt

**_Disclaimer:_****_ Star Trek: The Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

**_Content Warning:_****_ Strong T for a section around the 10k-word mark. _**

* * *

**À Bientôt**

**Stardate 45347.41**

**(Tuesday, 7 May 2368, 15:41 hours, ship's time)**

Whether you're in a normal school on some planet somewhere, or taking classes on a starship, one thing is universal: the end of the school year brings a kind of boredom and disinterest that can only be solved by spending an afternoon doing absolutely nothing.

At the same time, though, I had a clock ticking (because mental clocks are never the silent digital displays we actually use, they are great ticking machines) inside my head. At the end of this month, I would be leaving.

It is for both these reasons that Annette, Dana, and I were hanging out at the ship's pool in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. Data was on the bridge, Ray was on an engineering rotation, and Josh was off with Rryl doing whatever teenage boys did. Girl-time was essential, especially given the knowledge that we might not all be together again.

We could have gone to one of the holodecks, I suppose, but somehow the idea of reserving our hang-out space had repelled us. It was better to be in a place that was as much a social center as a health-and-recreation spot. Sure, the pool was an Olympic-compliant tank of water with marked lanes, and regulation diving boards, but it was also surrounded by deck chairs, and there was a small section with picnic-style tables and limited-menu food slots for drinks and light snacks.

Translation: all of us may have been wearing swimsuits, but none of us were actually swimming.

"I can't believe this is all ending," Dana said wistfully. "Zoe, you've barely been around all semester, and now you're going away for the summer _and_ next semester, too. Annette's leaving for uni in a few weeks. It feels like our classes keep shrinking."

"I don't suppose it would help to think of all the individual attention you'll be getting?" I suggested.

"Besides, people always come and go; there will be new students as well," Annette put in.

"Actually… maybe not. Ever since the Battle of Wolf 359, there've been fewer and fewer families transferring onto starships, and those that do are usually the ones with little, little kids." I knew that as much from hearing my mother discuss it as I did from conversations with Data.

"At least Zoe _is_ coming back," Annette said. "Just not right away. My father accepted a transfer to the Agamemnon Array, and he and mom are talking again, so I won't be back on the ship at all, even on school holidays."

"Yeah, but we'll be able to visit each other while I'm on Earth," I said. "I feel some serious shopping coming on."

"Shopping is always serious," Annette replied. "Maybe Dana could visit one of us, at least during the summer?"

"I'd love that," Dana said. "I doubt Dad will agree, though."

"Seriously? You're seventeen years old… he has to let you spread your wings _sometime_." The over-protectiveness of Dana's father wasn't unusual. He was a security specialist, after all, and there had been family drama before any of us had met. "Maybe if you tell him it'll get you away from Josh?" I teased. My friend's father had never been a fan of our breezy classmate, especially after he and Dana had begun dating.

Dana laughed shortly. "That might work." She took a beat before asking in a softer voice. "How are you going to handle being away from Data for six months? Aren't you afraid his brother will – "

"No." I made my voice firm, but not rude. "I refuse to give Lore even a minute's thought today. As for Data and me… he keeps reminding me that he has an imperial targ-load of accrued leave, that it's likely the tour part of my time with Idyllwild will intersect the _Enterprise'_s path, and that 'no one has ever been in a long distance relationship with an android.'" I sat up and rearranged the towel that I'd had rolled behind my neck. "Either we're meant to be, or we're not, I guess. This is just our first big test."

"It must be difficult for you," Annette said, "being with a man who can't love you."

"You'd think so," I admitted. "But… it really isn't. He's… he's Data, and even if he can't actually feel the emotion or use the word, he shows me all the time what I mean to him. I wouldn't trade that for all the words for 'love' in every language."

Of course, technically, Data _had_ told me he loved me. True, it had been in response to an emotional appetizer left by his psycho-droid brother, on the chip he'd stuck in a stud in my tongue at the beginning of the school year, but… I'd seen his face. I'd heard everything but the last two letters before the subroutine ended and he'd thudded to the floor.

We still hadn't talked about it.

I pushed that thought away, and tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

"Sure, sure," Dana teased. "Rub it in how you're dating the most wonderful guy in the universe."

"I never said that," I protested. "And it's not all rainbows and flowers. We argue."

"_Data_ argues?" That was from Annette.

"Actually, yes. Of course he does."

"He argues with _you_?" Dana wanted to know.

"Yes. Hence the 'we' in 'we argue.'"

Dana started giggling. "I'm sorry, Zoe, I believe you, it's just… It's Data."

Eventually I would be able to stop counting the things _It's Data_ seemed to explain, but in that moment, I was just exasperated. "No one sits around analyzing your relationships," I pointed out to my friends. "I'm going to swim."

Twenty laps later, I left the pool to find that the boys had joined us, after all. "Zoe, you up for a major study session tonight?" Josh asked.

"Can't. Rehearsal." We were three weeks away from _Little Women_, and my last day on the ship wasn't long after that. "I can study tomorrow night, though, so if you do math tonight…" I stood, dripping, on the deck as we talked.

"Yeah, that works."

"Rryl, you're sitting on my towel."

The Akkallan handed it to me. "Is the pool water cold?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Slightly cooler than humanoid blood temperature. Blissful. You should come swim with me sometime."

"I will consider it. I have never been swimming in contained water; only the ocean."

"And the holodeck," Josh corrected.

"The holodeck ocean," Rryl clarified.

"Well, the ocean's _better_, obviously, but this isn't bad." I said. "I'm going to go change… see you all tomorrow."

As I left the group, I realized that I was growing away from my friends, and I couldn't help but wonder if I was distancing myself from them on purpose. Something to bring up in my next counseling session, I guess.

**(=A=)**

"Zoe, Data, welcome back." Dr. Crusher greeted us both warmly as we entered the ship's auditorium together. We'd actually come from different directions – he from the bridge, and me from home. Arriving at the same time had been mere coincidence.

"Thank you," I said. Data paused to chat with the doctor – I heard the name 'Rasmussen' and the phrase '26th century,' - but I moved all the way into the room, dropping my padd and a sweatshirt on a seat in the front row, and sitting in the one next to it.

Ensign Laura Gilbert, who had played Margot in _The Diary of Anne Frank_ the year before, and was playing Meg in this show, tapped me on the shoulder, then leaned toward me from the row behind mine. "Glad you're back, Zoe. Rehearsal isn't the same without our Jo."

"I missed you, too," I said, and meant it. Laura and I didn't typically hang out, but we could easily have become friends if our paths weren't so divergent. "Come sit with me."

She grinned and moved rows. "So, Doc said we're finally going to rehearse Act II today, since you and Data are both back. Are you nervous?"

"Nervous?" I asked, perplexed.

"About kissing him? Jo and the Professor, at the end?"

I blinked at her several times. Was it possible that she honestly didn't know Data and I were a couple? "Pretty sure he's more concerned with the kiss than I am," I answered. It wasn't an evasion. Data had confessed to me on our trip that he was uncertain he would be able to 'adequately reflect the professor's love for Jo.'"

"Really?"

"Really. But you… you have your own stage smoochies in this show." Reg Barclay had been cast as John Brooke, and while he was still a bit anxious about public performances, his stammering speech actually worked for the shy-but-studious tutor. Also? He and Laura looked really good together.

"Don't remind me."

"Reg has improved a lot in the last year," I pointed out.

"It's not that…"

"What, then?"

"I'm worried he can't separate… that he likes me too much."

"Oh. Yeah. That could be a problem." It made sense, actually. If anyone was going to confuse stage romance with the real thing it would be Reg. Poor guy. He really couldn't win for losing. "I think you're just going to have to be really honest with him."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said.

I didn't have a chance to answer, because Dr. Crusher had come to stand in the front of the room, and Data had taken the seat behind me, the one that Laura had vacated.

"Alright, people," she said, as the rest of the cast stopped their conversations. "Since we have our Jo and Professor Bhaer back we're going to mix things up a little and rehearse Act II first. Places, please."

Data and I had been running lines together during the time we were on Terlina III, but he hadn't done them in the Professor's German accent. When he finally did come into the show in the middle of Act II, I was impressed. The accent he'd chosen was much better than the English one I'd heard him use in other productions, and he played the part with a softness that he didn't often display in public.

I think I fell in love with him all over again.

Finally, we got to the last scene in the play, after he's delivered the proof of Jo's book to her, and then left her house, assuming that she was the March sister who had married Laurie Laurence.

"Heart's dearest," Data spoke the line so gently, "why do you cry?"

"Because you're going away," I replied, putting a sob in my voice.

Data favored me with the kind of gentle smile that he only produced when acting. "Jo, listen to me: I haf nothing but much love to gif you. I was so afraid when I heard you were 'Mrs. Laurence' ... - but now all is well!"

"Good," the doctor interrupted us. "Now, Data, I want you to start to kneel, as if you're proposing to Zoe, but then remember that it's raining, and the ground is muddy."

Data tried a couple of different versions of what Dr. Crusher requested, and finally settled on something that we all liked, then added the line, "My dear, can you make a little place in your heart for old Fritz?"

Rehearsal went on. It was only the scenes that both Data and I were in that hadn't been blocked, because while we'd both missed the last two weeks, I'd been in rehearsals during the times he hadn't been able to break away from duty before that.

Finally, we got to the last two speeches of the play, and even though we were working that night without a set or props, the doctor stopped us before we got to that point, and handed Data an umbrella to hold over us both. "You're going to need to figure out how to hold it and still do the kiss," she said. "I don't want to have to reblock it."

Data nodded once. "I concur, Doctor," he said in his usual voice. Then he turned back to me, and allowed – or rather _invoked_ – that softer version of his expression, and used the accent again. "Ah! Thou gifest me such hope and courage, and I haf nothing to gif back but a full heart and these empty hands!"

Looking up at him, under the umbrella, even without actual rain falling on us, I was suddenly very aware that I would be leaving soon, that we'd be having our own version of that moment, albeit in reverse. I took a deep breath and slid my hands into his, one around the umbrella handle, one not. "Not empty now," I said.

Data kissed me.

And it was awful.

Oh, as kisses go it wasn't bad, but it was nothing like the way he usually kissed me. It was flat and distant, and it _felt_ staged.

The doctor seemed to agree with me, because she ended rehearsal then, but asked the two of us to stay, waiting for our cast mates to exit the room before she asked, "You were doing so well, and then everything fizzled when you kissed. What happened?"

"I do not know, Doctor," Data said. "I have been concerned that I would not be able to adequately convey Professor Bhaer's love for Jo, but I did not believe it would impact an action so familiar to me."

"Kissing Zoe, you mean?"

I could feel myself blushing a little, even as Data answered, "Exactly."

"Hmm."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Dr. Crusher admitted. "Did something happen between you two while you were away?"

I shook my head. "Nothing rift-y, if that's what you mean."

She smiled at my choice of language, then turned to Data. "I am aware of nothing that would adversely affect the way Zoe and I interact," he stated.

"Hmm," she said again. "Well, we have time. Don't either of you worry too much. It might have just been the fact that you don't typically kiss in public. Good work otherwise. See you Thursday."

"You're on duty tonight, aren't you?" I asked Data after we'd been left alone in the room.

"I have command of the bridge over night, yes," he confirmed. "There is time for me to escort you home and have tea before my shift begins."

"I'd like that," I said, thinking of sneaking in some cuddle-time on his couch, and then I realized. "Oh, wait, you mean Mom's… not… " I blushed. "Sorry. But yes, I'd like to have tea with you, as long as you don't mind if Mom and Ed join us."

"I do not mind," he said. I gathered my belongings and he guided me to the doors with his hand at the small of my back.

A tall man in clothes that looked out of place, even considering the myriad of personal styles represented by the people who lived and worked on the _Enterprise_, practically jumped us as we emerged into the corridor.

"Commander Data," he said, "and the lovely… wait… you're not… Zoe Harris… the _actress_? No, of course you are. They said you'd met when she was young. Anyway, I'd hoped to see you in rehearsal."

"I am afraid you missed that opportunity, sir." Data answered him. "However, you are correct in that this is Zoe Harris." Data's hand slid around my waist, and he pulled me slightly toward him in a move that felt more protective than possessive. "Do you require something from my girlfriend or myself? I was just escorting Zoe home."

Abruptly, the stranger stuck his hand out toward me. "Rasmussen," he said, apparently introducing himself. "Professor Berlinghoff Rasmussen. Here doing research. I'd love to sit down with you, find out what it's really like being a civilian on a starship. And dating an android… must be kind of… interesting."

"Nice to meet you," I said, noncommittally. Then I faked a yawn. "Data, I'm sorry, I'm really tired."

"Professor, if you contact me in the morning, I will gladly arrange for a more appropriate venue where you may speak with Zoe, if she is willing. For now, however, we must excuse ourselves."

"Ah, of course. Young love, and all that." He made a show of smiling and backing off, disappearing in the opposite direction of where Data and I were headed.

I held my tongue until we were in the turbo-lift, and then I asked. "Research? Actress? Who _is_ that guy? And… is he what you and Dr. Crusher were whispering about earlier?"

The doors _whooshed _open, and we were on deck ten, heading to my mother's quarters, where both my mother and her fiancé were very much at home, watching a video on the couch. Well, that's what they probably started out doing, but I could see how mussed my mother's hair was, and both of them were kind of sweaty and breathless.

Bogart, Ed's Labrador, got up from the floor to greet us, sniffing Data briefly, and then moving to me. I reached down to give him head-fusses. "Hey, Bogie… you acting as chaperone tonight?" The dog slobbered all over my hands in response.

Amused, Ed called him back to his original position. "Down, boy," he told the dog. "Stay."

Something about the way he was sitting told me that, despite his chuckling, he and my mother had been doing a _lot_ more than I'd originally surmised. _Seriously? On the couch? _ Then again, Data and I had done our fair share of canoodling on _his_ couch.

My mother, on the other hand, was sitting up straighter on the couch, adjusting the top of her lounging pajamas. "Hello, kiddo," she greeted automatically, "Data. I wasn't expecting you home tonight, Zoe."

I blinked at her, confused. "It's a school night," I said. I had, after all, promised to spend school nights at home, at least until I turned eighteen. The facts of my emancipation and the trip to Terlina hadn't negated that promise, as far as I was aware. "Last I checked, I still lived here."

"Of course it is," she said, "and you do, it's just… you're very early."

"Data has the bridge overnight," I added. "We were going to have tea before he had to report. I didn't think we'd be interrupting – Mom, would you rather we not be here?"

Ed, I noticed, had started laughing, while my mother was blushing. "Zoe, if Data doesn't mind you staying in his quarters tonight, maybe you'd better…"

"You're kicking me out?" I asked, doing my best indignant voice. "The one night I'm NOT racing back here to make curfew, you decide to kick me out? Gee, thanks for that." But the truth was, I thought the whole thing was hilarious, and it was all I could do to keep from laughing. "Data, are you accepting refugees tonight?"

The android had been quiet, watching the familial by-play, but when I addressed him directly, he answered simply, "You are not a refugee, Zoe. Come, we will have our tea at home." Had he put just a little bit of emphasis on that last word? I wasn't sure.

Back in Data's quarters, I let the laughter come out. "I'm sorry," I said to him. "It's just… I never expected to walk in on my _mother_."

"She and Ed are in a committed relationship and planning a wedding," Data said. "Is it unusual for them to engage in amorous activities?"

"Not at all," I took a beat, "It's just that they don't typically do their 'engaging' in the living room when they know I'm due home."

"In their defense, you have made it a habit _not _to be home until the last moment of your agreed-upon curfew of zero-two hundred hours."

"That's fair." I took a deep breath. "Five weeks, roughly, and it won't be an issue anymore because I won't be here. And then six months later…" I glanced up at him. "By Christmas, these rooms really will be _our_ home."

"I am looking forward to that time. This space seems much more complete when you are sharing it with me." He went to the replicator, ordered two cups of tea, and brought them to the couch. "I do not believe Professor Rasmussen is entirely trustworthy," he said, returning to our earlier discussion. He sat down, and passed one of the tea cups to me.

"But the captain has asked that we cooperate within reason. If you wish to talk with him, I do not believe it will cause any harm." He explained further that the professor was an historian from the twenty-sixth century. "On a separate note, we are approaching Panthera IV, and I will likely be involved in the mission there. I may not have a lot of time to devote to you until we have reached a resolution."

"I've never complained about you having to spend time on work, Data." It was true. I only ever complained about what that work sometimes entailed, and even then, it wasn't so much complaining as expressing concern.

"No, you have not. But you _have _stated that you prefer to be as informed as possible, and I am attempting to comply with that request."

"There was an asteroid strike, or something, wasn't there? I saw it in the news feeds."

"Yes. The planet's atmosphere has reacted poorly, and we will be attempting to correct that."

"Does it ever make you feel like you have too much power – correcting the atmospheric fault of an entire planet?"

He actually appeared to think it over. "Perhaps," he said. "We have had similar missions before, and we have not always been successful. However, the risk of doing nothing is generally greater than the risk of attempting something."

"Even if you have no clue whether or not it will work?" I asked, assuming our conversation was theoretical.

"Even if," he said, gravely. He fell silent then as did I, and we finished our tea that way, just enjoying each other's presence. Just before midnight, he collected both of our empty cups and recycled them, then went to have a quick sonic shower and change to a fresh uniform.

When he returned, looking every inch the perfect officer, I got off the couch to kiss him goodbye, putting more into that kiss than was typical when he was just going to the bridge. I'm not sure why. I think I was just feeling that six-month separation looming over us. I didn't tell him I loved him – he knew what I felt - and sometimes even _we_ didn't need words.

"I will be home shortly after zero-six hundred hours," he said. Dog watches on the bridge or in engineering, two places that involved more monitoring than active work most of the time, were typically only four- or six-hour shifts. "If something keeps me longer than zero-six-thirty, I will let you know. Do not stay up too late."

"Hadn't planned to," I said. "Go be in charge." I gave him a playful shove to the chest, and watched as he turned and left.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45357.42**

**(Friday, 10 May 2368, 19:35 hours, ship's time)**

"It's not often I get to enjoy the presence of my favorite daughter on a Friday night," my mother teased. "Data's busy?"

"On duty until midnight," I confirmed. We were sharing a sushi boat – basically a bento box for two served on a tray shaped like a boat – in Ten-Forward. "He and Geordi have been putting in really scary hours on this mission, and I think even Data was beginning to be exasperated by Dr. Rasmussen, but apparently he's now a different kind of 'honored guest.'"

"I heard that," Mom said, as she dipped a piece of sushi into wasabi-laced soy sauce, then tapped it lightly on the side of her dish to get rid of any drips. "I'm hoping to talk with him before he's transferred to the authorities at the next starbase. It's not every day you get to talk to someone from the past first-hand." She popped the sushi into her mouth.

"Ever the anthropologist," I teased. "What does your training tell you about coming-of-age rituals among humans?" I asked her, then, attempting to segue into the topics I needed to discuss.

"Do I need wine for this conversation?" she quipped.

"With sushi? Dad says beer's better."

"For all your father's flaws, an uneducated palate isn't one of them," Mom agreed. "I have a feeling your question isn't so much about coming of age rituals in general as it is about yourself?"

"Guilty as charged," I agreed. "Two things. One… I got the info-pack from Idyllwild's employee resource liaison, and I thought you might like to join me on the holodeck to look at prospective apartments this weekend." I hesitated, then amended, "Well, join _us_. I asked Data if he'd be part of the process. I hope that's okay with you."

I saw my mother's eyebrow quirk, and saw her swallow, as if she were forcing herself to measure her reaction. "Data has plans to visit you while you're on Earth?"

"He does," I said. "At least once, and then there's your wedding. I'm assuming he's invited as my date if not in his own right?" My mother and Ed had set their wedding for the first weekend of October, which would be my last weekend before the tour part of my time away.

"The two of you are planning to stay together, then?" she asked. I could see in her face that she was trying not to criticize, or be obviously concerned.

"We are." As soon as I said it out loud, something shifted inside me, as if by telling my mother, I'd killed all my own doubts. "And he's asked me to move in with him when I come back. Which was actually the second thing I wanted to bring up."

I expected her to yell at me. I expected her to give me a list of reasons why it was a bad idea to be so committed so young. Instead, her eyes seemed to grow misty, and she reached across the table for my hand. "Oh, Zoe… are you sure you want that? It's a big step."

I put my hand in hers, and felt her callouses when she squeezed my fingers. "Mom, I'm there half the time anyway, and when I'm not… well, things like Tuesday happen, and it's embarrassing for all of us." But I knew she meant more than just where I hung my clothing and spent the night. Calmly, even gravely, I told her, "I know I'm young. I know I still have to finish school here, and go to college, and start a career, but I also know that Data's who I want. We haven't talked about anything specific – beyond living together, I mean – but this isn't just me mooning over a crush. We _both_ want a future together. It's just a little too early to know exactly what that future will look like."

There are moments when you suddenly see the person you're talking to through completely different eyes. My mother, in that instant, looked small. Not shrunken or anything, but small, as if I no longer had this looming _parent_ across from me, but instead just a person. An older, wiser person who loved me unconditionally, but still, a person.

I'm pretty sure she was having a similar experience on the other side of the table, because, again, she surprised me with her reaction. "You're not asking for permission, are you?"

I shook my head. "No, Mom. I'm not. I don't have to. Even if I wasn't emancipated now, by the time I get back I'll be within a month of my eighteenth birthday."

"And six months away will put some distance between you and the people who see you only as a student."

I picked up a gyoza with my own chopsticks. "There is that. I hesitated a moment, then asked, "Do you ever feel like there's not enough time? I'm leaving in three weeks, and I feel like I have so much going on, and I can't even stop and breathe."

"That's pretty normal, kiddo. You're anxious to start the next part of your life-chomping at the bit, so to speak. For the next three weeks your life is going to be pretty much 'hurry up and wait.'"

"Yeah, that's kind of what it feels like." I grew quiet, almost pensive, toying with my food for a few moments. In a smaller voice, I asked. "Is it normal to feel like you're outgrowing your friends? I was going to ask Counselor Troi, but…" I shrugged. "I think this might be more a mom-thing, too."

"Oh, Zoificus, you _do _like to challenge me."

"Hey, at least I'm not asking for sex advice this time."

"There is that," my mother said, her dry tone so much better than mine was. "You and your friends are in different stages of your lives right now. Annette is leaving for college, which means she's making the break from family support, just like you are, but she's also going to a safe, structured kind of life. Dana is a little behind you both – she's still very much tied to her father, and that's okay. She's been a good friend to you, though, so maybe don't cut her off. You may not feel like you're clicking right now, but by the time you come home? I have a feeling she'll have found her own footing."

"And me?" I asked. Mom-perspective was turning out to be pretty helpful.

"You're already into a new part of your own life," she said. "Going off on your first real job, living on your own while you're away, moving in with your…" she hesitated, apparently choosing a word, "…lover. It's normal for you to feel like you've left your girlhood friendships behind right now."

"I guess. I just wish… I wish there was more time. I almost wish I wasn't doing this play, just so I could spend time making memories."

"That's also fairly normal," Mom said. "But I think it's good that you're doing the play. Theater and music have always been an escape for you, and now they're becoming a destination instead."

"You have to admit, all things considered, _Little Women _is frighteningly appropriate."

"Yes, it's almost as if Dr. Crusher picked it with a purpose in mind," my mother teased.

I smiled at that, and at her, and then returned to one of earlier topics. "So, apartment hunting? Data's never had to _look _for housing before, and I really want your insight."

My mother gave me her patented gushy-mom look. "Just tell me when."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45376.99**

**(Friday, 17 May 2368, 23:32 hours, ship's time)**

Another week had gone by. We'd had three more rehearsals after our first one together, and Data's kiss at the end of the show, the kiss that the entire play built toward, was still falling flat. After the third failure, Dr. Crusher had asked us to come and rehearse with just her, which is how we'd spent the two hours immediately after dinner. Finally, she'd released us, saying, "I'm going to leave this up to you. There's something going on between you that you're not talking about, or haven't recognized. Please figure it out, because otherwise, you're perfect together."

Then she'd shooed us out of 'her' auditorium.

Data had suggested returning to his quarters for tea and analysis, but I'd come up with an alternate plan. "Come with me to the aquatics lab," I invited. "I want to see if the grace sharks have started pupping yet."

"Lt. Nguyen's last report implied that they would not be doing so before you leave the ship," he pointed out. "Do you have information to the contrary?"

"No. But animals tend to give birth when they're ready, rather than adhering to a calendar. Besides, the lab is relaxing, especially at night when it's empty."

"While I will gladly go with you to the lab if you wish," Data said, "I suspect that delaying our return home is an attempt to avoid discussing the problem with our scene. Am I mistaken?"

Data's tone was guileless, and his features were as open as they ever were. He expected the truth from me, and there was no way I could give him anything else, even if I'd wanted to. "No," I admitted. "You're not mistaken."

We entered the turbo-lift, both of us uncharacteristically quiet as it moved laterally and then vertically until we reached the deck where Data lived, but before we could exit, he said, "Zoe, wait." Then he instructed the doors to close, and gave the computer instructions to convey us to the biology labs anyway.

"Data?"

"Perhaps a visit to the grace sharks would not be amiss after all," he said. "Sometimes a 'change of scene' can be beneficial."

When we arrived at our updated destination, I took his hand and led him to the bench in front of the shark tank. The room was cool, and illuminated in soft nighttime blue, and the only sounds were the burbling of the pumps and the occasional slap of the water against the top of the tank when one of the sharks took a sharper-than-usual turn. "Confession time," I said softly, sitting on the bench, and tugging his hand so that he would join me. "Last September, the night we first kissed… the night we got Lore's data solid out of my tongue?" I waited for his confirmation that he knew the night I meant, as if there was doubt. "When I ran from your quarters, I came here. I think, in the back of my mind, I had some schoolgirl fantasy that you'd come after me, and kiss me for real."

"I did kiss you 'for real' that night," he told me. "Had you not ended that kiss so abruptly, I am not certain that I would have stopped… us."

I scooted closer to him and he wrapped his arm around me. Resting my head against his shoulder, I said softly. "I think I know why our stage kiss isn't working."

Data nuzzled my hair for a moment before he said, "You believe it is related to the 'gift' from Lore, do you not?"

"Kind of. We haven't… I know what you told me, that you _felt_, and I know what I saw, and how _that_ kiss felt to me. But we've been home almost two weeks, and we haven't really talked about it."

"I wanted to give you the words," he said quietly. "You deserve love, Zoe. I can give you companionship, familiarity, and loyalty. I am devoted to you, and I am committed to you – to _us_ – but…"

I sat up straight, and shushed him with a finger pressed to his lips. "I've been talking a lot with Counselor Troi over the last year," I said, even though I knew he was aware of the number of sessions I'd had with her. "More so since… since Melona, and one of the things we've talked about is the fact that love isn't always an emotion. It's also a condition. All the things you just listed? Added together, by any definition, they equal love. Or at least, they come as close to it as possible, all things considered. I mean it when I tell you that I don't feel like anything's lacking in our relationship, Data, because nothing _is._ After our trip, I don't even have the worry, anymore, that if you _could_ feel love, you wouldn't feel it for me."

"I never considered that I would not," he said. "Nor did I realize that you had such a concern. I do, however, fail to understand how this is relevant to the problem we are having on stage."

"Do you? It's because you're trying to reproduce the feeling you had from the trip, in your performance."

I could almost feel the dots connecting inside Data's head. "That is a possibility I had not considered," he said, and his voice made it obvious that he understood. "When I kiss you _as you_, my subroutines recognize the action as an expression of all of the conditions I previously listed. But when we are on stage, and I am attempting to convey the feelings the professor has for Jo, it is the memory of what I felt in that moment in my father's laboratory that becomes preeminent."

"I know you initially began experimenting with theater as an attempt to invoke your own emotions," I began, "but maybe this is one of those times when instead of trying to be a 'method' actor, you should go for a more outside-in approach." I shrugged. "Alternatively, you could just kiss me the way you always kiss me."

"On stage?"

"No, in the back row during the second matinee," I teased. "Yes, on stage."

He nodded. "Ah. I see. Perhaps that will work."

"I'm sure it will." I started to rest my head on his shoulder again, but paused, adding, "Maybe don't try that with any other scene partners while I'm away."

"No," Data agreed. "I will not."

We sat in silence for a while, just watching the sharks swim in their gentle circles.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45390.04**

**(Wednesday, 22 May 2368, 18:11 hours, ship's time) **

"I'm sorry the soliton wave experiment didn't work," I said to Geordi. He, Data, and I were sharing a table in Ten-Forward, grabbing an early dinner before they went to their weekly poker game, and I went to spar with the captain. (When the officers' game had shifted to Wednesdays to accommodate the rehearsal schedule for _Little _Women, so, too, had Captain Picard's exercise schedule. I wasn't certain if he'd changed his schedule to avoid being in the gym when senior staff was likely to be on the loose, or if it was for my benefit, and I had no intention of asking.) We hadn't actually planned to be a threesome, but the lounge was unusually crowded, even for a peak time. "I kind of liked the image of a starship surfing through space." I tossed my hair and put on my best surfer-girl accent. "Dude, it would have been _gnarly_."

"See!" The engineer said, gesturing to me, "_That_ is the kind of reaction I'd been hoping for from you and Worf!"

"But Geordi," Data pointed out, "such a reaction would have been inappropriate considering the ultimate failure of the experiment."

I opened my mouth to intercede, but before I could speak a shadow loomed over me, and a deep voice rumbled, "Excuse me, sirs, but there are no empty tables. May we share yours?" I looked up to see Worf and his recently-arrived son, Alexander. I smiled at the boy, and saw the flicker of a return smile before his features morphed into an expression just this side of sullen.

Data and Geordi exchanged a look before the former said to the Klingon, "As long as Zoe does not mind, you are welcome to join us."

I turned from the boy to the android sitting, a little startled that he was leaving the decision to me, but despite the facts that I barely know Lt. Worf, and was fairly certain that he wasn't all that impressed with me my hesitation was less than the space of a breath. "You're more than welcome, of course."

The three of us adjusted our chairs so accommodate the two Klingons, which put me next to Data on one side with Alexander on the other. "We've met before," I said to him. "Do you remember?"

"You took me to see the bat rays," he said. "Are they still there?"

I shook my head. "They were released, put back into the Pacific Ocean on Earth, but right now there are some sharks in the aquatics lab, and I think one of the other labs has some rare reptiles."

"Alexander has already seen the reptiles," Worf intoned. A troubled expression flickered on his son's face and he softened his voice, and addressed the child. "But we have not seen the sharks. Perhaps we could visit the lab after dinner?"

"I'd like that, Father."

After that the conversation became a lot less stilted. I'd had a feeling the three officers would end up 'talking shop,' and I wasn't wrong. They were discussing the politics of rehabilitating rare animals on different worlds, something that my work with the sharks had me interested in as well. Both Data and Geordi made a point of inviting my input, but as much as I was enjoying being treated as an equal member of the group, I was also watching Alexander shrink into himself.

When Guinan stopped by to check in with all of us, and ask if anyone wanted dessert, I jumped at the offer. "Me, please," I said. "Alexander, have you ever had a dish called 'potting soil?'"

The boy shook his head, "You can't eat dirt."

"Actually, you can," I corrected. "Though I wouldn't recommend it. Tastes like sand." I grinned at him. "Potting soil – the food – is a dessert. It's chocolate pudding served in a candy shell shaped like a terra cotta planter. It has cookie crumbs on top, to make it look like fresh ground, and – this is the best part – there are gummi worms buried in the pudding."

"Gummi worms?" he asked with more energy and interest than he'd shown during the entire meal to that point. "What's that?"

"They're jelly candies," Guinan explained.

"They're the perfect blend of gross and delicious," I elaborated. "And they come in funky colors that can turn your tongue red or blue or purple."

"Father, can I have potting soil?" Alexander asked.

Worf looked at me, and just for a second, his eyes held a hint of amusement, and his mouth quirked into a mischievous smile. "You may," he told his son. "But only if you share it with me. It was my favorite dessert when I was your age."

I met Guinan's eyes, and traded grins with her. "Three orders of potting soil, please," I told her. "And spoons for everyone."

Watching three grown men digging gummi worms out of pudding should not have been as entertaining as it was.

At one point, though, when I was chatting with Alexander about the green and blue worm he'd just extracted from the bottom of his pudding, I'd caught a glimpse of Data's face, and the thoughtful expression that was in evidence to people who knew what to look for.

I made a mental note to ask him about it later.

**(=A=)**

"Your form is improving, Zoe. Good work," Captain Picard said when we'd both collapsed, breathless, onto the bench in our section of the gym. He'd started me on the heavy bag, and then we'd actually been sparring with each other. I'd felt really clumsy at first, but he'd been patient about telling me how to stand and move and when to use my feet.

He handed me a sports-bottle of water, and I started chugging it before he reminded me to slow down.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm really thirsty."

"You should be. We worked for over an hour."

"Captain," I said, turning slightly on the bench so I could see his face. "Thank you for this. When… when I usurped your training room that night, all I could think was that I needed to hit things."

"And since then?"

"There are days when I'm fine, and days when I want to curl into a ball and hide from the world, and days when slugging things is the only thing that helps."

"I suspect that's fairly usual," he said in the tone that seemed dry, but also meant that he was speaking from experience.

"Yeah, probably." I hesitated for a moment, then took a breath and asked. "Is there any chance you could recommend anyone to coach me in San Francisco? I've asked Counselor Troi for a list of therapists, as well, but… sometimes I need the physical outlet more than I need the talking."

"I'm not well-versed in boxing coaches, I'm afraid," he said. "But I know someone who is. I'll contact him and introduce you."

"Thank you," I said again. "I'm going to miss these evenings with you, sir."

"If you'd like to continue on as my sparring partner when you return, I'll ensure that my schedule accommodates it." He pronounced 'schedule' with a soft 'ch' and it made me smile.

"I wouldn't want to impose," I said.

"It's not an imposition, if you're being invited," he pointed out. "You won't be meeting me next week, will you?"

"Probably not," I admitted. "I'll probably be in the middle of packing, and trying to spend as much time as possible with my mother and Data."

"Then if we don't speak again before you leave, let me wish you well on your new adventure. I'm told you're quite the correspondent when you're travelling."

"I guess I am," I said. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do qualifies as an adventure, though."

He shared his short, staccato laughter with me. "I have found, Zoe, that adventure can be found in even the most ordinary things, if you know how to look for it. Include me in your correspondence from time to time. I've always wondered what a life in theatre would be like."

"I'll do that, sir," I said, rising from the bench. "And thank you again."

He rose as well, his innate sense of courtesy dictating that he had to walk me at least to the door. At the entryway, I paused. A simple goodbye didn't seem enough, so I offered my hand. "It's been an honor getting to know you a little bit, Captain."

He met me halfway, with a handshake that was as firm, as crisp, as I suspected it would be. "Make us proud, Zoe," he said.

I could only echo the words Data usually gave me when he was leaving, and I was instructing him to come home. "I promise to try."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45395.77**

**(Friday, 24 May 2368, 20:31 hours, ship's time)**

The holodeck was jumping. Annette and Ray had made the reservation, selecting the smallest one, holodeck four, and loading a popular dance club program. Annette, Dana, and I had spent a good chunk of the early evening in my room at Mom's, picking the perfect outfits and hair. It was the last time the three of us would all be together, and we were determined to make it spectacular.

It was supposed to be an evening of fun and frolic to celebrate the end of the school year and mark one of Annette's last night's aboard-ship. Dancing and dishing with friends had been the original plan, but somehow it had morphed into something larger. A bunch of the younger set from the lower decks – high school students both ahead and behind of us – Annette was _not_ the only graduating senior, ensigns, a few cadets and a sprinkling of civilians on internships or externships or semesters in space - had joined the party, and it had turned into a raucous event with a driving dance beat and pulsing strobe lights.

A year before I would have reveled in such a party. I would have danced with everyone, and probably hacked the replicator to get real booze.

Instead, I was itchy from the glitter in my make-up, and bored out of my skull. I hadn't realized dating Data had changed me so much, but I would have given anything to be learning another ancient ballroom dance from him, or just hanging out in his quarters, reading and talking and just being together.

Sitting at one of the tables, sipping some fruity concoction that tasted a lot stronger than synthehol was supposed to, my thoughts kept turning to the conversation Dana, Annette and I had at the pool a couple weeks earlier, and the later one I'd had with my mother at dinner. Our trio was breaking up, and our lives were starting to move in different directions. Sure, Dana and I would be back on the ship together once I returned for the spring semester, but even then, I'd only be a part-time student.

"Zoe, dance with me, please?" Ray Barnett asked when Annette dropped into the seat opposite mine, breathing heavily. "You've been sitting here being melancholy all night.

"I'm not melancholy, just… reflective," I said.

"Details, details," Annette teased. "Dance with him, Zo', please? I need a break, and it's not normal for you to be the one sitting still."

I set my drink aside. "Sure," I said. "Why not?" I followed Ray onto the dance floor trying to lose myself in the generic techno-pop music that was more beat than melody. It should have been weird dancing with my best friend's boyfriend, but Ray had styled himself as my non-biological brother, and I enjoyed the security of that relationship.

"Where's your boyfriend tonight?" Ray teased as we fell into rhythm together. "Did you even invite him? I don't think it's really his scene."

"I told him he was welcome to pop by if he wanted to, and he politely declined," I explained. "He's on the bridge 'til midnight, anyway."

"Does Commander Data even dance?" The look on Ray's face implied that he couldn't imagine such a thing.

"Actually, he's an amazing dancer," I assured my friend. "But he prefers music that doesn't threaten to deafen the average humanoid. Ballroom. He dances ballroom. And tap."

"Hey, change partners!" Laura Gilbert, the ensign who was playing Meg in _Little Women_ with me said. She was dancing with one of the Bass brothers – I wasn't sure if it was Carvel or Joren – twin ensigns, one of whom specialized in sciences, the other was command track.

"Sure," I said. Apparently that was my word of the evening. Ray and Laura moved off and I admitted to my new partner, "I'm sorry, I know you're a Bass, but I don't know which one you are."

"Carvel," he said. "Joren never comes to parties. You're Commander Data's girlfriend, aren't you? I've seen you around."

"I'm Zoe," I told him. "And yes, I'm dating Data." I hadn't ever been identified that way before and I wasn't sure if I liked it or not.

I stayed on the dance floor for three more songs, with three more partners, and then I returned to the table where I'd left Annette. She and Ray were both there, as were Dana and Josh. "Where'd all these people come from?" Dana asked. "Do we even know any of them?"

"I recognized a few," I said. "I guess it's not a bad thing, meeting new people."

"Says the woman who's practically a hermit," Josh teased. "Zoe, just because you've found your One True Love, it doesn't mean you can't socialize with us plebes."

"You're not a plebe," I said. "And I guess you're right, I just…" But the words I was going to say were lost as a new wave of people invaded the space and the music got cranked up even louder.

I thought about leaving more than once, but somehow exiting the holodeck felt like it would also be exiting my relationship with my friends, and I really didn't want that. Around midnight, though, when pretty much no one we knew was still present, we began to disperse.

Annette and Ray disappeared about then, probably desperate for some couple-time in their few remaining nights together. Rryl and Serena (who had arrived late) split after that, and then Josh and Dana started to excuse themselves as well.

"Zoe, we don't want to leave you here alone," Dana said., proving in that moment, why she was still my best friend, even though I'd been spending more one-on-one time with Annette. "I thought Data would be coming to fetch you."

"It's barely twelve-thirty," I said. "We didn't have specific plans." We did, however, have a routine of me spending Friday nights in his quarters. I just wasn't sure if that's where I was supposed to go when we hadn't actually talked about anything more than his duty schedule and my plans to attend the party. "Will it cramp your style if I walk back home with you two?" Like my mother, their parents both had quarters on deck ten.

"Of course not," Dana answered.

"Like you even have to ask," Josh tacked on.

We were all quiet as we walked to the lift, but it was the kind of quiet that comes with easy camaraderie. Even so, Dana reached out to hug me at my mother's door. "Let's have lunch on Monday, okay?" she asked.

"Definitely," I said. "Goodnight, you two."

I stepped inside, to find that Mom's door was closed, which meant she and Ed had already gone to bed. I went to my room and sat on the bed, but I felt like I didn't belong there anymore. I reached inside the top of my dress to activate the comm-badge I'd hidden there – I may have agreed to wear one, but I'd never agreed to let it show – but the door chime sounded before I could, and I got up to answer it.

I wasn't at all surprised to meet my favorite pair of golden eyes when the door slid open.

"Data... is something wrong?"

"I came here to ascertain that myself," he said, speaking in a tone that made it clear he was perplexed, "While we did not discuss it explicitly, I assumed you would be coming home after your party. Did you intend for me to escort you back? Have I erred in some way?"

I answered by throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him.

Taken aback, it took him a moment to respond, but while he met my kiss, he also ended it much sooner than was typical, holding me away from him. "While I appreciate the exuberance of your greeting, I am… confused."

I laughed softly. "You didn't err. _I_ did. I should have asked you if you wanted me to come over after. Spending weekends with you has become such a routine… but even so, we usually confirm, and when we didn't I was…" I stopped. "Look, most of my weekend clothes are at your place anyway. Can we talk about this, there? I don't want to disturb Mom and Ed."

"Of course, Zoe."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45396.37**

**(Saturday, 25 May 2368, 01:47 hours, ship's time) **

"That's better," I said to Data as I joined him on the couch with my hair down, my face make-up-free, and dressed in one of the never-worn-until-I-claimed-them Starfleet Academy t-shirts, instead of the dress I'd had on before.

He nodded once. "You do seem more comfortable." He handed me a steaming mug, telling me, "It is chamomile."

I smiled and breathed in the faintly sweet, herbal scent of the tea. "You're trying to lull me to sleep," I accused. "Not that I mind, it's been a weird day."

"Indeed," he responded, calm as ever. "Will you explain to me now why you felt uncomfortable coming here when you were… I believe your term would be… 'partied out?'"

I made a conciliatory gesture with my head and eyes, acknowledging his attempt at my slang. "Ever since we walked in on Mom and Ed, I've felt all betwixt and between," I confessed. "Annette and Rryl are leaving the ship for good. Josh, Dana, and I are all going separate ways for the summer, and I won't be back aboard until December, and Mom's quarters may only be two decks away from here, but they don't feel like home anymore."

Anyone else would have gently mocked me for that rant. Data treated it as seriously as he did almost everything else. "Perhaps," he said gently, "that is because they are _not_ your home anymore." "I still have a bit more than a week before I leave," I reminded him.

"That is true. However, there is nothing that precludes you from moving your belongings here now. It is likely, now that you are finished with classes for the term, that you will be spending your nights here; is it not?"

"Probably," I admitted. "But there's a reason for maintaining at least the semblance that I still live with my mother."

"Please elaborate."

"I'm seventeen. I may be legal. I may even be emancipated, but until a few hours ago, I was very visibly a student."

"I see," he said flatly. "You are concerned for your reputation."

"God, how can you be so fucking brilliant at ninety-nine percent of all things, and fail to see the reality of this situation?" I set down the mug I'd been holding because I was afraid I would throw it in frustration. "You're the only sentient android in Starfleet. You're third in command of the flagship. I'm not entirely clueless. I know you're watched more carefully than any other officer with a similar position. Data, I couldn't care less about my reputation. I'm concerned about _yours._ I always have been."

"I am aware of all of these things, Zoe. Contrary to the opinion of many, I am not naïve."

"You sure about that?"

"Do you wish me to express the level of my certainty to ten decimal places?"

I was too stunned by his use of sarcasm to even begin to respond to that question, which is a good thing, because I was fairly certain it was rhetorical.

Data confirmed my assessment by continuing, in a much gentler tone, "Do you believe that I have not considered all of the points you have mentioned, or that I did not consider them before I allowed our relationship to progress this far?"

"We've never really discussed it in any depth," I pointed out, working to remain calm, so that this conversation would remain a discussion, and not escalate into something else. "We've acknowledged that I'm… painfully young. We've talked about the fact that we both want a future together. We've discussed the fact that breaking up is not an option. You asked me what I wanted, and when I told you I was more at home here than anywhere else, we agreed I would move in when I get back."

"You agreed," he said quietly.

"Excuse me?"

"When we discussed cohabitating, you suggested that it would reflect poorly upon me, and I rejected that suggestion. Then you said that it would harm your relationship with your mother. Based on recent events, I do not believe that to be true any longer." He paused, giving me time to really absorb his words. "I also believe that something happened this evening to 'spook' you. If _you_ are uncertain about our relationship, Zoe…"

"I'm not," I said. "I mean, I worry about your reputation, yes, but aside from that? If I wasn't sure about us, I wouldn't be here, now."

"But something _did_ occur at the party." It wasn't a question, and I could tell he expected me to explain.

"Someone at the party - actually, a lot of 'someones' - one of the civilian scientists, a couple of the ensigns, one of the Bass brothers - didn't know my name. I was dancing with Carvel Bass... It, was just casual dancing – no touching – club dancing, you know?" I waited for his nod. "He said he'd seen me around, and wasn't I Commander Data's girlfriend? And he's not the only one who identified me that way. And, part of me was proud to be recognized that way – it's infinitely preferable to being Commander Harris's daughter, or Maestro Harris's kid – but I also resented it a little, too. I'm not just some accessory; I have my own identity."

"Ah."

"That's all, just 'ah?'"

"What do you wish me to say?" His voice was so quiet. So soft. I wanted to end the conversation and just curl up in his arms.

"Tell me," I began, and then I stopped because I wasn't sure.

"Zoe?"

And then I knew. I knew exactly what to ask him. "Data… will you tell me what _you_ want?"

"I want your belongings next to mine on the shelves, and your clothing brushing against mine in the closet," he said in the same quiet tone. "I want these rooms filled with your presence, even when that presence means that things are not always perfectly tidy. I want to continue exploring music, art, and politics with you, without necessarily adhering to a set schedule."

I sat back in the corner of the couch, staring at him, as moved as I was on the night of my birthday party when he'd managed to tell me he loved me without ever invoking any emotion. I opened my mouth to respond, and then closed it because he clearly wasn't finished.

"I want to come home to you, and I want to be the person you come home to. As much as I _wish_ you were not leaving this ship, I also recognize that you must complete your education and establish a career. I want to support you in those endeavors, to be there for each success, and to be your refuge if you should ever fail."

"Data, that sounds an awful lot like – "

He stopped me. "No, Zoe. This is not a proposal. That _would_ be premature for both of us. It is merely… a wish-list."

"Or a road map," I said.

"Perhaps. Though it is one with topographical details that are necessarily vague."

I had to smile at that. I wanted to give him just as many words in return. Instead, I just said, "Okay."

"O-kay?"

"Mmhmm." I moved across the couch and straddled his lap, facing him. "Okay," I said, and kissed him. "Okay, you just got yourself a roommate." Another kiss, as my hands went to his shoulders, and his arms came around me. "Okay, I believe you aren't avoiding reality." I began unfastening his uniform jacket, working to get access to his skin. "Okay, I trust that we can make this work." The jacket was gone, and my hands were tugging at t-shirt he wore beneath it. "Just… okay."

I heard the twin _thuds_ behind me as he kicked off his boots, and then Data lifted my t-shirt over my head, and leaned forward so I could divest him of his. "Do you wish to relocate to the bed?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Here's good." I kissed him again, wriggling on his lap so that I could reach to undo his trousers.

He stilled my hands. "Let me," he said, and _moved _just enough that he was able to strip off the rest of his clothing, before his hands went to my hips, first caressing and then easing my underwear away. Our mouths met in another kiss, and then he lifted me just enough so that we could come together in another way.

Data's hands kept me stable, but I was the one in control. That night on the couch, our lovemaking started slow and sweet. His hands kneaded my back as I moved on top of him. My hands guided his head to my neck, to the pulse-point over my carotid artery where I had guided his fingers months before.

His tongue on the sensitive skin there sent me soaring. Slow and sweet became faster, almost frantic. Nearing climax, I whispered, "Bite me." I'd felt his teeth there once, and it had been exquisite.

He froze and he moved his head so he could meet my eyes. "I do not wish to trigger…"

"You won't," I assured him. "Not there."

It took a moment to find our rhythm again, but his mouth at my neck made my completion so much more intense.

I don't know how long Data held me, afterward. I only know that at some point he shifted me into a different position, and carried me to our bed, tucking me into the soft charcoal sheets, and slipping in beside me.

Neither of us spoke, but I heard the soft _whirr _of a panel opening on his head, and an optical cable being snapped into place, and the familiarity of those soft sounds eased me into sleep with a smile on my face.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45397.34**

**(Saturday, 25 May 2368, 10:16 hours, ship's time)**

I still had faint traces of glitter on my skin when I joined Data at the table in the main part of his – no, _our_ – quarters the next morning. I knew this because I could catch the light reflecting off them from the corners of my eyes.

Data had anticipated my needs and had coffee waiting. "The _Enterprise_ has located the _Vico_," he informed me after I'd finished about half of the mug. "I am due on the bridge at eleven hundred hours, and will likely be part of the away team."

I nodded. "I need to tell my mother we're… accelerating our plans." I said. "Unless you've had second thoughts?"

"I have not. If you are also certain, I have prepared the form transferring your assigned quarters to these rooms. I will need your thumbprint." He handed me a padd with a print scanner, and I read through the document – it was really just so people would know where to find you in an emergency, route mail, allocate resources – and placed my right thumb in the window. "That was surprisingly anticlimactic," I observed.

"Perhaps that is because this is not the end of anything, but a beginning" he countered, as he tapped the controls to send my change of address to the quartermaster and others who had to know. I had to grin, but he continued. "I have arranged for transport tags for your belongings. If you contact Lt. Silva, she will have containers delivered to your mother's quarters, and then transported here."

"It'll give me something to do today, while you're off being an intrepid explorer," I replied, with just the hint of a teasing lilt in my voice. I finished my coffee, and left the table to replicate a second cup and a bowl of fruit and yogurt. "Try to come home in one piece?" I asked, forcing my tone to stay light.

"I will always try," he agreed. He left the table, paused to kiss me and whisper the word "Etudes," and then he left.

I finished breakfast accompanied by a novel on my own padd, checked Spot's litter pan, refilled her water, made the bed, and headed off on my own mission.

**(=A=)**

My mother was waiting for me when I arrived, but all she did was pull me into a hug. "Data contacted me this morning," she said. "He was concerned that I wouldn't support your decision."

I shook my head, smiling ruefully. "That sneaky… I should be annoyed with him, for going behind my back, but in this case, I'm glad he did."

"You know you can always come home if things don't turn out the way you hope," she said.

"I know," I said out loud, but inside I was thinking, _No, Mom. I can't. Whatever happens between Data and me, I can't live with my parents any more. I've gone through too much to be anyone's little girl. _"I don't suppose you'd like to help me pack?" I asked, giving her my best winsome look.

Mom laughed. "Oh, Zoificus, I'm going to miss having you around every day."

"Is that a yes?"

It turned out that it was. It also turned out that packing wasn't the horrible task I'd expected it to be, partly because a lot of my clothes had already made their way to Data's, as he'd mentioned, and partly because I just didn't have a lot of _stuff_ in my room on the _Enterprise_.

At Mom's suggestion, we actually packed the things I'd be leaving on the ship separately from the things I'd likely be taking with me to Earth. "Why do this twice?" she asked, and I had to concede that she had a point.

Once everything was packed, we called for transport, and I stood and looked at my empty room. "Hard to believe I only lived here for two years," I observed. "It felt like a lot longer."

"To you, maybe," Mom said, looping her arm around my waist. "To me, it feels like you were six years old with no front teeth, just yesterday."

"Now, there's a lovely image," I snarked.

"Maternal prerogative," she quipped back.

"I should go," I said, feeling suddenly awkward. "I'd like to get some of this unpacked before Data finishes his shift. Let's do dinner later this week. All of us, or just us, whatever works."

"I'd like that." She walked with me to the door, squeezed me closer for a moment, and then let go.

**(=A=)**

I wasn't at all surprised when the door chime sounded and Counselor Troi was waiting on the other side. "Hello, Zoe. I haven't seen you in a while."

"It's been less than a week," I reminded her. "Did Data send you?"

"He might have mentioned that you and he had changed your living arrangement. Mind a little company?"

I shook my head. "Mind it we have this talk over chocolate?" I moved aside so she could come all the way into the room. "Packing makes me snacky," I added, "and I've been craving a salted hot chocolate and butter cookies all day, but if you want something else?"

"I'm fine with your suggestion," she said, taking a seat at the table. "Moving in together is a big step," she said a moment later, not even waiting for the replicator to spit out our snack.

"We'd already talked about me moving in when I get back in December," I told her. "Here, careful; it's hot." I placed the first of the two drinks I'd ordered in front of her, then went back to the replicator for the cookies and my drink. "I'm leaving in a week, and I'm here almost all the time, anyway," I added. "My mother was surprisingly on board with the whole thing,"

"Was she?"

"Well, she was wistful, but… yeah. She helped me pack, reminded me I was always welcome to come home. I think… I think she knew this was going to happen."

"And it's Data," Troi put in. "There's an element of safety there."

"Is there?" I asked. "Sometimes I think he's got everyone fooled, and he's going to shock us all with his dark side." I grinned. "Mostly, I just think I'm incredibly lucky. And as for big steps… it's big for him, too. Maybe bigger. I mean, I'm just moving in with my boyfriend. But Data… Data's making this quiet stand that pretty much demands he be viewed as though he were any other person."

"That's very astute."

"I can be, sometimes," I said, only half-teasing. "We had a long talk about it last night. He reminded me that I was the one who wanted to wait until I got back, not him. He seems to think his reputation won't suffer."

"He's probably right."

"Really?"

"Truly." We sat in silence for a few minutes, before the counselor said, "You have another big step coming up. How do you feel about leaving?"

I ate a cookie and considered my answer. "A little nervous," I said. "A lot panicked, but only because I feel like I'm running out of time. But mostly, excited. I _want_ this experience. I _want_ to be out in the world." I sipped some of the salted cocoa and smiled a little. "I'm pretty sure there will be moments when I want to come home, too. I know I'm going to need some help from a counselor from time to time, but I also know that between my parents, you, and Data, I have all the tools and all the support I'm going to need. I'm so _ready_ for this."

The counselor seemed to study me for a long moment. Then she said. "Yes, Zoe, you really are." She was about to say something else, but her comm-badge chirped and she was summoned to sickbay.

"Is it – " I began, but she cut me off.

"If it's Data, you'll be the first to know, but no, I don't think it is."

I could only nod.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45406.54**

**(Tuesday, 28 May 2368, 19:07 hours, ship's time)**

"How's your mini-me doing?" I asked Data over dinner on the night of the final dress rehearsal for _Little Women_. The nickname was meant with humorous affection, but I truly cared about the boy. He'd been the sole survivor from the _Vico, _rescued in the nick of time by the man I was now living with.

"Timothy is… as well as can be expected," he told me. "I find it ironic that I have spent much of my life attempting to become more human, yet I am now modeling android behavior for a human child."

"You're more human than you know," I said. "You're also a strong and reassuring presence. If I'd lost my whole world, I'd want to adopt your apparent fortitude. He's sleeping and eating, at least, isn't he?"

"As far as I know. I am not aware of how he spends the hours we are not together."

"Well, the elementary kids are still in school. The structure being in class is probably good for him. There's safety in routine." In that, at least, I was speaking from experience. "Josh, Dana, Rryl, Serena, and I are having dinner together in Ten-Forward tomorrow night. Why don't you bring Timothy here for a couple hours? You could play music or paint, or something – give him a taste of what androids do at home."

"You would not object to his presence here?"

I started to retort that they were his quarters, but they weren't, exactly, anymore. I'd officially moved in several days before. "I said a few hours, not forever," I snarked, but I made it obvious that I was teasing. "It must be pretty awful to have counselors basically babysitting you twenty-four/seven," I said. "I mean, I was lucky. I had you watching out for me when Mom was injured during the Borg attack. I never had to go to sleep alone, or deal with a nightmare on my own."

"That is true," Data said. "But even then, you and I had a very different relationship. We already had a close friendship. With Timothy… I recognize that he has 'attached' to me, or, more accurately, to what I am, but that is… all."

"What more do you _think_ you should be perceiving?"

"I am not certain. Perhaps I am seeking to act as a 'father figure.'"

I reached out to touch his hand. "Don't force it. Timothy had parents. Right now, he probably needs friends more than anything." I took another bite of the roasted portabella mushroom I'd chosen for dinner, and washed it down with a sip of cold water. "Data… do you think… do you have plans to try fatherhood again someday?"

"I cannot resurrect Lal, if that is what you mean," he said quietly. "As I said, I consigned her remains to…" he stopped, as the look I was giving him began to sink in. "It is something I would like to experience again," he admitted. "But I do not believe I am 'ready for that' just yet."

"Maybe something in one of your father's hidey-holes will help you."

"I have considered that," he said. "I believe there may even be something in the data we brought back from Terlina III that would help me create a more stable matrix."

"Are you planning to go exploring when the _Enterprise_ is close enough to do so?" I asked.

"I will wait for you to return, if you insist," he said.

I shook my head. "No, that's okay. It's more important that you not waste any opportunities. Just promise me that you won't go alone, and that you'll tell me everything."

"You have my word," he said.

I smiled. "Good." I finished the rest of my meal, and left the table, pausing to hug him from behind and lean around him for a kiss. "Come along, Friedrich, darling, we have a play to do."

"I am ever with thee, heart's dearest," Data answered in the professor's soft German accent.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45409.63**

**(Wednesday, 29 May 2368, 22:12 hours, ship's time)**

The distinctive scent of linseed oil assailed my senses when I walked through the door after dinner with my friends, but instead of seeing a pair of black-and-mustard-clad males at work with paints, I found slightly dimmed lights, Data at his desk, and the sleeping form of the young wannabe-android Timothy sprawled on the couch with Spot perched on the backrest, keeping guard.

"He finally crashed?" I asked.

"Approximately twenty-seven minutes, thirteen seconds ago," Data confirmed. "I believe he has been fighting sleep for quite some time, in order to avoid nightmares."

"Poor kid," I said. A part of me wanted to ruffle the boy's hair or give him a hug, but we'd really only met a couple of times, so I resisted. "Are we keeping him here for the night?"

"I considered it," Data answered me. "But Counselor Billings suggested that he would be better off waking up in his own bed. He is en route, now, to collect the boy."

"Is that his painting?" I asked, looking at the easel which held a mostly black and red image. It looked like the nightmare version of an explosion.

"His representational skill leaves much to be desired," Data said.

I bit back a snarky comment about _his_ skills as an art critic. "Maybe," I said, "but the raw emotion in that is pretty intense."

As if on cue, Timothy cried out in his sleep. I'd had enough nightmares of my own to know he was in the throes of a bad dream.

"I will wake him," Data said.

In all the times Data had brought me out of horrific dreams, he'd never been parental with me. I'd always had the sense that we were partners in whatever I was going through. Watching him with Timothy, however, reminded me very much of his behavior toward his daughter in the videos of Lal that he'd shared.

A part of my mind envisioned a future where the child being comforted was not a refugee from a dead starship, but a child of our own, either android or human. At seventeen, I wasn't anywhere close to considering motherhood, but a brief future-fancy made me smile for a moment.

I was jolted back to the present when Timothy sat up, shouting, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!"

Data began speaking to him in a low, soothing tone. "Timothy, wake up; you are dreaming. Timothy, you are safe now."

Blinking owlishly, the boy came back to wakefulness. "Da – Data…" he said.

"You were having a nightmare, but you are awake now, and safe."

"Androids don't require sleep," Timothy said, denying both his own humanity and his dream.

"Sure they do," I said, stepping forward. "They don't _call_ it sleep, though," I said. Silently, I was willing Data to just go along with me. "It's more like… downtime."

"Zoe is not entirely incorrect," Data said after a quick glance in my direction. "I often devote time to re-indexing my files."

"And sometimes he finds… glitches," I said. "They're kind of like bad dreams."

Data said nothing, but Timothy seized upon what I'd said. "That's – that's what happened to me. I – I had a glitch. I was – sorting through the files about the _Vico_ and – I –." His android persona seemed to fall away, then, and he started sobbing.

Data let the boy cling to him for several minutes, until he'd sobbed himself out. Counselor Billings arrived a few minutes later, and I sat with Timothy while Data explained what had happened.

"Are you… are you Data's girlfriend?" the boy asked me.

"I am," I said.

"Androids can _have_ girlfriends?"

"Well, grown-up androids can. Very young androids probably shouldn't worry about such things just yet."

"Does he really have… have glitches?"

"His aren't quite so obvious," I said. "He's a lot more experienced than you are about talking to his friends and working things out in his program before it becomes an issue, but… even Data isn't perfect all the time."

"Is it… is it weird, being with someone who doesn't have emotions?"

I shrugged. "Sometimes we have to work harder to understand each other than we would if we were both human or both androids. But no, it's not weird."

"Would you still want to be Data's girlfriend if… if he wasn't an android anymore?"

His question shouldn't have rocked me, but somehow it did. Still, I tried to give the kid an honest answer. "Data will always be an android. He doesn't have a choice, but I think he's maybe told you that he sometimes wishes he were human?"

Timothy nodded.

"If he ever got that wish, I would be completely happy for him, but… it wouldn't change anything. He'd still be Data." I waited a beat and asked. "Are _you_ kind of thinking you don't want to be an android anymore? Because if you don't, that's okay, and no one will think less of you, or stop being your friend."

I could see the conflict and pain on his face, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have a chance to, really, because Data and Counselor Billings came back to the couch. "Timothy, it's very late. Are you ready to go home to bed now?" the counselor asked.

Timothy glanced from Data to me and back to Data before meeting the counselor's eyes. "I am ready to go home and… re-index my files," he said. "Thank you for painting with me," he said to Data, after he left the couch.

"You are very welcome," Data responded.

"Goodnight, Zoe," he said to me.

I gave in to my urge and ruffled the boy's hair. "Get some good downtime," I said.

His android persona broke just long enough for him to smile slightly, and then he and Billings were out the door, the counselor carrying the kid's still-wet canvas.

Once we were alone, Data began putting away the art supplies. He recycled the piece he'd been working on and came to join me on the couch, but I was already standing up. "You're pretty good with kids," I told him. "I've never seen you really interact with any – I mean, there was that time with Charlie Simmons, but – anyway…"

"You were the one who put him at ease," Data pointed out. "Although you stretched the truth somewhat."

"I did because you couldn't," I said. "And because he clearly needs to be an android right now. Poor kid."

"You should not have ruffled his hair," Data said.

"I ruffle _your_ hair," I pointed out, reaching up to do exactly that. "You're all kinds of sexy when you're a little bit rumpled."

"I believe you said the same about when I am in what you refer to as 'officer mode,' as well."

"No," I said. "When you're being _Lieutenant Commander Data_-" I intoned his full rank in a pompous voice "- I think you're all kinds of _hot_. The difference is subtle, but important."

"I stand corrected," he said lightly. He pulled me close and I rested my head against his chest, smiling into the fabric of his uniform when his arms tightened around me, and sighing when he nuzzled my hair.

I went to bed shortly after that, leaving him to work a bit longer, but I woke in the night to find him next to me, reading a padd set it it's softest illumination. "You know it's okay if you don't come to bed every night," I reminded him.

"I know," he assured me. "Please accept that I am here because I wish to be, and not because I am 'playing human' for you."

"Okay," I said, rolling onto my side and propping my head up with my hand. "But I reserve the right to at least _attempt_ to distract you." I trailed my other hand down his chest.

"I would expect no less." His free hand moved to capture mine, and bring it to his lips. "You should go back to sleep."

"Hold me for a while?"

He set the padd aside, and shifted his position so that he was lower in the bed, and I was nestled against him. "Is this better?"

"Mmm. It'd be perfect if you were singing." I wasn't being needy, really. Mostly, I was teasing him. Besides, I'd have to survive six months without having a naked android singing to me in bed. I figured I deserved a little indulgence.

I'm not sure what a human lover would have done – sighed in affectionate exasperation, maybe. Data wasn't human, of course, but I could tell he was dealing with his own perceptions of our impending separation, because he kissed my head, and started to sing, his warm tenor pitched just for my ears.

"Goodnight, sweetheart, till we meet tomorrow.

Goodnight, sweetheart, sleep will banish sorrow.

Tears and parting may make us forlorn,

But with the dawn, a new day is born.

Goodnight, sweetheart, tho' I'm not beside you,

Goodnight, sweetheart, still my love will guide you.

Dreams enfold you, in each one I'll hold you.

Goodnight, sweetheart, goodnight."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 45421.55**

**(Monday, 3 June 2368, 06:55 hours, ship's time) **

The last four days before I left the _Enterprise_ had been a whirlwind. If I'd felt a clock ticking before, I lived my last few days with a damned metronome clacking at me.

_Little Women_ had opened on Thursday evening, and the comments we got were all positive, some even incredibly flattering. With the kiss 'fixed,' the rest of the show sang, and I think the audience could tell it wasn't just acting for any of us.

On Friday, Timothy had finally opened up about what really happened on the _Vico_, and something he'd said had given Data the necessary information to prevent a similar tragedy from happening on the _Enterprise. _

The vast majority of the people serving on the great starship had known nothing about the danger we'd been in, of course. The only reason I did is because Data told me, after the fact. In any case, Timothy had dropped his android persona soon after, and while my boyfriend had assured him they would remain friends, the boy was being sent to Earth to live with relatives.

More specifically, he was being sent under _my_ care. I'd come a long way from the rebellious fifteen- year-old who had been dragged aboard more than two years before.

A really long way.

On Sunday, after the cast party, which had turned into a going-away party for me, Data and I had gone back home for some private time. I'd surprised him by dragging my cello out and playing for him the same song he'd sung to me in our bed a few nights before, and then he'd played his violin for me while I finished my last-minute packing.

I was leaving a lot of myself behind with him, and not just the tangible things like clothing and shampoo.

He'd finally coaxed me into bed around midnight, only to be called to the bridge to cover when the watch officer on duty had developed a sudden attack of food poisoning, and the warp engines weren't responding correctly (it turned out to be a minor error by a green overnight engineering crew, but it had resulted in a major glitch).

Data hadn't been back home in time to escort me to the shuttle bay, though he had comm'd to say goodbye, but Mom and Ed had planned on that honor anyway.

"Hey, Zoe," Timothy greeted me, as he arrived at the bay with Counselor Billings. "Do you think they'll let us sit by the windows? I like to look out."

"Go aboard and find out," I said. "I'm sure no one will mind."

"Thank you for doing this," the counselor said to me. "I'm sure he'll be fine, but…"

"But it's good to have a travel buddy. Trust me, there are times I could have used one."

The assigned shuttle pilot came to fetch my bags, and remind me that we had only five minutes left. "Commander Data said to treat you as if you were a dignitary," the young Caprican told me. "But I'll still get yelled at if we're not ready to launch."

"I know," I said. "I promise."

"Have a safe trip, Zoe," Ed said, as we shared an awkward hug.

"I love you so much, kiddo," Mom told me. "I'm so proud of you." One or both of us might have been teary.

"I'll call as soon as I'm at Nonna's and then again when I'm settled in San Francisco," I promised. "And I'll see you in October, for your wedding."

"It's too long," Mom said, sniffing.

I kissed her cheek and hugged her again, and then I turned and walked up the boarding ramp to the shuttle. I was barely in my seat before the ramp was pulled in and the doors began to close.

_"Hold launch!" _The order came from outside and over the comm system at the same time. There was cross-talk from the cockpit, and then the Caprican pilot – I really needed to ask his name – came to the passenger section. "Zoe, you're wanted outside for a moment. Captain's orders. Good thing we haven't decompressed the bay, yet."

"Okay…" I said. I got out of my seat and exited the shuttle, trying not to think about the collection of officers and civilians who were watching.

A familiar figure in black and gold was waiting at the bottom of the ramp, "Data?" I asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I could not let you leave without a proper goodbye," he told me.

"You held the launch for that?"

"Yes," he said. "I held the launch for _you._"

"I love you," I blurted, because there was nothing else to say. "I love you, and I'm going to miss you, and as much as I want this experience, I want to come home to you, just as much."

"I know," he said. He pressed a long, thin box into my hands. "I purchased this for you before I left Centaurus, in January," he said, as I fumbled with the wrapping. "I had intended it as a birthday gift, but I was advised that it would have been 'too much, too soon.' Then, I thought to present it as a belated Valentine's Day memento, but after what you went through, I believed it would only remind you of 'the bad parts.'"

I let the ripped paper wrapping fall to the deck, and tried to listen to the words my boyfriend was speaking. "I did not wish to wait for your return, or for Christmas, or New Year's Eve. I am giving it to you now, because I suspect that you will have need of a piece of 'statement' jewelry while you are away, and because… because I wish you to remember that I am devoted to you, and will be counting each millisecond until we are together again."

I opened the lid to the box, and my breath caught. Inside, was the necklace I'd looked at in the jewelry store window when we'd gone shopping together. Rose gold and pink pearls designed in a way that managed to be young and fresh without looking too sweet or cloying. "Data… it's…" I didn't know what to say. "Help me put it on," I said. I was wearing a black V-neck top over jeans, but it was the kind of piece that could dress up a casual outfit without looking stupid.

I turned my back toward him, and he fastened his gift around my neck, leaning close to whisper. "I was correct in my original assessment. It does look aesthetically appealing against your skin."

I turned around. "I love you," I said again. "God, Data."

He stopped my words with a kiss.

In front of all the people watching from the shuttle and the crewmen who were working in the shuttle bay. In front of my mother and Ed who were lingering to make sure the launch really happened. In public, and in uniform, Data gave me the kind of kiss he'd only ever given me in private.

I was breathless and teary when we parted.

"If you say 'goodbye' right now…" I warned.

"I will not, because we will see each other soon," he said. "Instead, I will borrow a phrase from the captain and say à bientôt, my Zoe."

I nodded, and hugged him hard, and then I turned around and ran back into the runabout. Within seconds after I'd returned to my seat, I heard the launch order being given, and then the _Enterprise _was behind us, and I was headed to Earth.

* * *

**Notes: **_Little Women_ was written by Louisa May Alcott. The version of the play these lines come from was written by Kevin Cunning while he was affiliated with MIT. (No, I don't know him, I just liked his version of the script.)

"Goodnight Sweetheart" was first published in 1931, and was written by Ray Noble, Jimmy Campbell, and Reg Connelly. Brent Spiner covered it on his 1991 album _Ol' Yellow Eyes is Back_.

This chapter covers three episodes: "A Matter of Time," "New Ground," and "Hero Worship_,_"and represents probably the longest stretch of time I've done in a single chapter, but I didn't want to go to an epilogue.

Zoe's assurance about what Data would feel for her if he could comes from the events of chapter 24 ("Crescendo") of this story, and of the Data-POV one-shot _Two Point Five Words. _

This chapter represents the end of _Crush II: Ostinato, _but the Data/Zoe story will continue. Please follow me if you want alerts, or be sure to check my profile page in the coming weeks.

Thank you all for reading.


	26. Teaser: Unaccompanied

**_Disclaimer:_****_ Star Trek: The Next Generation, the _****U.S.S. Enterprise****_, and all the canon characters belong to CBS/Paramount. Anything else is mine. Reviews are better than chocolate; don't be shy. _**

* * *

**TEASER: Unaccompanied - A Suite for Actress and Android  
**

_Dear Readers:**  
**_

Thank you for reading _**Crush II: Ostinato**_.

I appreciate every single one of you, whether you left reviews, followed along silently, or were just a drop-in reader.

If you haven't read all the side stories (many of which are from Data's POV) please check my profile for the chronological list.

To find out how Data and Zoe handle her summer with the Idyllwild Theatre Troupe, please read

**UNACCOMPANIED**

**(A Suite for Actress and Android)**

_Please note: UNACCOMPANIED is rated M for mature themes and situations._

**TEASER: **

My grandparents hadn't even been gone for an hour when the comm-system chimed the alert for an incoming call. I told the computer to route it through the entertainment system, expecting that the caller would be Annette or Wes – the two friends I already had on Earth.

I was never happier to be wrong. The gold-leaf features of the man I loved came into view on my screen, and I sat, cross-legged on my couch so he could see me. "You're early," I accused, teasing him. He generally tried to time his calls to coincide with my approximate bedtime.

_"I apologize for the change in schedule. However, I believe you will find the reason acceptable. Captain Picard will be giving the commencement address at the Academy's graduation ceremony next Sunday. The Enterprise will be docking at Earth Station McKinley on Wednesday evening." _

"I thought McKinley was only used for refits and repairs?"

_"There are other reasons for docking there,"_ he said, _"which I am unable to divulge at this time. In any case, Captain Picard has given me seventy-two hours of leave, commencing on Thursday at twenty-hundred hours, local time."_

"San Francisco local?" I confirmed.

_"That is correct." _

"You're coming here?" I tried hard not to bounce on the couch in excitement. "You're coming here to spend the weekend with me?"

_"If you are amenable,"_ he said. _"You did mention, when we spoke last night, that you were looking forward to 'a weekend of solitude to get settled in.'"_

"That never applies to you," I said. I hesitated for the briefest of moments – a breath, really – and added, "To be honest, all day I've been thinking that my bed is too big for just me."

The flicker in his eyes told me he knew what I meant. _"Perhaps we can determine whether that perception is accurate,"_ he answered. _"I will contact you before I beam down,"_ he added. He seemed about to sign off but then he tacked on one more thing, _"If it will not be too late, do not eat dinner. I would like to take you out." _

I grinned at his image on my screen. "It won't be too late," I said. "See you soon."

_"See you soon," _he echoed._ "Data out." _

**UNACCOMPANIED**

**(A Suite for Actress and Android) **

… has already begun (as of 29 February 2016), and will be roughly six chapters long.

After that, look for _**Crush III: Sostenuto**_, which will begin in a few weeks.

Thank you again. Happy Reading.

\- _MissMelysse _


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